


The Boy with the Broken Halo

by TheVagabondBoy



Series: Even the Devil’s Been An Angel [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Barry 'I did not sign up for this shit but im gonna save everyone but be rly bitter abt it' Allen, Barry Allen is one of The Rogues, Barry hecked up, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Car Accidents, Children, Children In Danger, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Dubious Morality, Fire, Graphic Depictions of Drug Use, HARRISON WELLS YOU FUCK I HATE YOU, Heavy Angst, Homophobic Language, I AM SORRY, I'm Sorry, Injection-based Drugs, Injury, M/M, MY EMOTIONS, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character, Moral Ambiguity, Needles, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Serious Injuries, Strip Tease, Tags May Change, Very very minor, Violence, WIP, Wakes & Funerals, Warnings May Change, What Have I Done, but for Barry most serious injury arent really serious since he heals so fast, but ill add it just in case, dont worry about it yall, i am sad, i feel things, its cool, mick and len are v worried abt their boyfriend, title may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 36,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry is living the life of a Rogue, with Mick and Len right there with him. For the first time in a pretty long time, he's actually pretty happy with his life.</p><p>But the villains never get a happy ending, do they?</p><p>**THIS WORK IS NOT NECESSARILY ABANDONED, BUT, LIKE, DON'T EXPECT ANYTHING FROM IT???**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Did You Save Your Love for Me Tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the spotify playlist for this fic! New songs will be added with every new chapter posted. You can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/backinblack97/playlist/7LVcXwXS8xlsitqMcVbedC)

_Title from: Hot Blooded, by Foreigner_

 

The crowd at Saints and Sinners was, as always, less than honorable. It was the usual watering hole for the entire city's criminal underground. Of course, this meant that one would most certainly find the whole band of Rogues there too. Band, may be an overstatement though. There were three of them.

 _The Black Flash_ : Meta-Human, fastest man alive, and surprisingly, the least homicidally inclined of them.

 _Captain Cold_ : Human, armed with a heart of ice and a gun of the same sort.

 _Heat Wave_ : Human, all around hot head with a penchant for arson.

Or, as they knew each other, Barry Allen, Leonard Snart, and Mick Rory.

It was Tuesday; despite this, the pub was packed. The unsavory crowd was rowdy as hell, laughing loudly over their drinks and shouting conversations over the racket of the jukebox.

The Rogues sat at their regular table, Lens choice made long ago; it was nestled into a corner, making sure no one could sneak up on them. Mick and Len sat on one side of the table, with Barry opposite them and he with his back to the rest of the pub. He had one foot in either of their laps, under the table, and a smile on his face.

Lisa, though preferring to make her own name and stay out of the Rogues, was there as well. She stood by the jukebox, surveying the list of available songs. She smiled as she spotted the song she had been searching for. Without hesitation, she popped a quarter in the slot and thumbed in her selection.

The whole bar seemed to roar at her choice, recognizing the song from the first guitar riff.

“C’mon, Barry-boo!” Lisa shouted over the crowd. “Show ‘em what ya got!”

Barry snorted, smile widening. “If you’ll excuse me…” he said to his boyfriends.

They watched on, smiling between themselves, as Barry flashed across the pub. He appeared on top of the bar counter in his customary hail of yellow lightning. Of course, all eyes landed on him. They knew what was coming because Barry had done this before. It had become quite a common occurrence over the last year.

_“Well, I'm hot blooded, check it and see_

_I got a fever of a hundred and three_

_Come on, baby, do you do more than dance?_

_I'm hot blooded, I'm hot blooded!”_

Barry sang along and danced. He moved across the counter, back and forth, flirting with the whole crowd as he went. He tossed his jacket aside, hands roaming over his own body as if they were those of a lover; caressing himself and touching in all the right places. The whole crowd was screaming at him. A few were even throwing dollar bills at him. Barry gladly did as they wanted and stripped out of his t-shirt, throwing it in the air. Someone reached out and caught it, whooping at him.

Suddenly, a beer bottle came flying through the air. Barry, with his quick reflexes, easily sidestepped it though, watching it smash against the wall behind the bar.

“Get outta here, ya fag!” someone, definitively whoever threw it, shouted.

Len, still sitting in the back, sucked in a sharp breath. “Here we go again…” he said lowly, but smirked nonetheless.

“C’mon.” Mick said, clapping Len on the arm. “Got heads that need bustin’.”

Barry flashed across the crowd, then a man sailed back toward the bar. He hit the wall with a cracking noise and an ‘oof’, then fell to the floor. He evidently landed right in the shards of his broken bottle, going by the shout that came next.

And that was how all of Saints and Sinners fell into an all-out bar brawl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished the first chapter, but I literally JUST started writing this thing so it'll probably be a while before there's anything more to post. :)  
> Please, tell me what you think! And I'm thinking about giving Bad Boy Barry some tattoos, and I have a few ideas, but I'd really love it if you give me suggestions and share your ideas! Who knows, maybe I'll put 'em in too! <3
> 
> EDIT:  
> This is, in my mind, set about a year after 'Trouble Seems to Follow', maybe a little less.


	2. Never Thought About the World Without You

_Title from: Yesterday, by Atmosphere_

 

The Rogues stumbled into their chosen home for the night. It was only one of many safe houses they had all around the city; this one, was a small house on the outer edge of a small suburb. The streets were lined with mini-vans and the laws covered in toys. Not Barry’s personal favorite, that was still the old garage, but good enough for a few nights at a time.

Mick and Len, not already half-healed by Meta-Human superpowers, both groaned in pain as Barry helped them down onto the couch. Len had taken a few good shots to the ribs, nothing broken but he would certainly be sore for a while. Someone had smashed a wooden barstool and a pool cue, or two, over Micks back, so he would be quite sore too.

Barry went to the bathroom and back again in the blink of an eye, returning with the first aid kit in hand. The news played on the TV in the background as he tended to the wounds of Mick and Len; scraped knuckles, a few cuts and bruises, nothing too serious. Still, they were cleaned and patched up with much care. Even the smallest cut could yield a bad infection if left unchecked.

It was a strange scene, really. At least to Barry’s eyes. Him caring for injuries sustained from a nasty bar fight, and yet it felt like home; yet there was no place Barry would rather be, than right there with Mick and Len and knuckles bruised from punching faces.

“You need to stop starting bar fights.” Len said, flattening the band-aid already coming loose from his knuckles.

Barry chuckled, throwing himself down between them on the couch. “No, you’re just getting old.” he said with a smirk, poking Len in the ribs.

Len made a face at him and bat his hand away. Instead of stooping to Barry’s level, he lay his arm around the kids shoulders and pulled him a little closer.

This was comfortable.

It definitively wasn’t where Barry had imagined himself ending up, but he was glad he had. Even just sitting there on the couch, he seemed to fit perfectly between Mick and Len. There was a space between them that was shaped just like him, a space he could call home. It didn’t matter that they had to move around, not settling in one place, but as long as they were together, they were at home.

Barry got a hold of the remote, turning up the volume. It was the same old crap on repeat; the reporters were lamenting the state of their poor city, _why has the Flash turned on us, oh, boo-freaking-hoo?_ The Meta-Humans were practically running the city by now. Barry was surprisingly okay with that. He was a Meta, so why should he care about the humans? All they did was try to fight _and kill_ Metas! Why would he have any sympathy for them.

They had tried to kill him too. Every time they had a run-in with the cops, they shot at him in the hopes that they would finally end him.

The news anchor went on and on about what fresh hell the Metas had wreaked this week. Barry honestly had half a mind to run across town, bust into the studio, and put his fist through her ribcage if she didn’t shut up

“-and we go now to the weather.”

_Praise the Lord, Barry’s prayers had been answered!_

“Wait. Wait!” the anchor said then, stopping everything and holding a hand to her earpiece. “I-I’m getting a live report now! It seems…a Meta has _kidnapped_ a Detective from the CCPD.”

Oh, this was going to be good! Barry sat up a little straighter, as did Mick and Len. That had to be one bold Meta.

“A-And I’m being told this Meta has also kidnapped one of our camera men!” she continued, looking around as if begging her producers for help and advice. “It seems the Meta is now demanding to be put on the air. S-So here we go to a live broadcast from this Meta.”

The screen flickered for a while, then an unsteady shot filled it. The place was dark and the camera was shaking slightly. It looked it be angled down at the ground for a moment, but it was quickly lifted to focus on a man in a yellow suit. _Jesus_ …the suit, it looked exactly like the one Barry had worn as the Streak, but made in yellow instead. The camera moved again, and Barry’s heart stopped.

“Joe!” he shouted at the TV as the Detective came into view.

Joe was sat on the floor of…wherever he had been taken to; he looked a little banged up, but over-all unharmed.

Barry was out of his seat, but he couldn’t move. He just stood there, staring at the TV.

“My name is Eobard Thawne. This is a message to Barry Allen.” a man said and the camera focused back onto the man in the yellow suit, his cowl now pulled back to reveal his face.

Doctor Wells?

“H-How…?” Barry stammered.

He could hear his partners make sounds of shock as well. They had all thought the doctor dead! Len had _killed him!_

“Barry Allen. _The Black Flash_ …” Wells said, contempt pouring from his voice. “Because you refuse to follow the plan I had set out for you, I must take drastic measures. You brought this upon yourself, Barry. More importantly, you brought this upon Detective West here.”

Oh, no…Barry couldn’t breathe! His throat had closed up.

“We’re in the old industrial area.” Wells said. “I’m sure you can find us.”

Barry didn’t stop to question it. He didn’t think, he didn’t wonder for a moment what Wells wanted from him.

He just ran. He was out of the house before Mick and Len could get a word in edgewise. Barry wouldn’t have listened anyway. What could they say to stop him? Joe was in danger! Barry may be a Rogue, he may be a bad guy, but Joe was…Joe was Joe! Barry couldn’t abandon him. Not now, not ever, not in a million years.

Barry zipped through the industrial area. Searched through all the warehouses and every building in sight, top to bottom. Of course, though, they were in the last warehouse on the lot, the last on he came to.

The camera was on him from the moment he came into range. It focused on him, followed him as he slowly and carefully approached Wells. It broadcasted his terrified face to the entire city. All eyes were on him.

Wells had Joe beside him, an iron grip on the Detectives shoulder to keep him in place.

“What d’you want, Wells?” Barry asked. “Tell me! I’ll give it to you! I’ll give you anything you want! Just let him go! Please! Please, just let Joe go! He has nothing to do with this!”

“It’s okay, Barry!” Joe insisted through the tears. “It’s okay. I love you, okay? No matter what, Barr, I love you. Don’t do what he sa-“

Wells jerked on his arm, silencing the detective.

“Since killing your mother obviously didn’t have the effect I had hoped it would,” Wells said. “-maybe this will.”

Barry watched it happen in slow motion.

Wells’ entire body began to vibrate.

One moment, Joe looked at Barry with _so much love, so much affection_.

The next, his eyes seemed to blacken, as Wells’ fist punched through his chest.

Red lightning filled the room.

Joes lifeless body hit the concrete.

Wells was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KILL ME  
> I AM SO SORRY IM SORRY


	3. Tear Your Heart Off Your Sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter is set circa a week after the end of Trouble Seems to Follow)

_Title from: I’m Alive, by Shinedown_

 

_Joe definitively didn’t fit into the crowd at Saints and Sinners._

_He was there anyway. He sat in his car, parked up the street. This would be difficult; not only for him, but for Barry as well. He assumed so at least. Barry had gone off the deep end. Not only was he the Streak, but now he had turned it around and joined forces with Leonard Snart and Mick Rory? Joe had to talk some sense into the kid. If he kept going like this, things would only get worse._

_Barry hung out at Saints and Sinners now. Joes CI had said he had seen_ the Black Flash, _as people had taken to calling him, there nearly every day since his ‘debut’. The CI had also said that Barry liked to start fights, play cards and shoot pools, and drink and smoke so much any normal man would pass out. Even in just the week since his impromptu side_ _-change, he had apparently become quite the pool shark_ and _broken several noses. It had to stop_.

_Joe took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he got out of his car. He headed for the pub with faux confidence in his gait. The clientele eyed him from the moment he walked through the door._

_“Hey.” a man said sternly, stepping into Joes path to stop him going any further than he had. “Ain’t no room for_ cops _here.”_

_“Look, I’m just lookin’ for my son, okay?” Joe defended. “I just need a word with him.”_

_The man scoffed at him. “I got news for you, piggy.” he said. “If he’s here, I’m guessin’ he don’t want anythin’ to do with your lot.”_

_"Rex!”_

_That was Barry’s voice!_

_He was beside the man a moment later, surrounded by a yellow flash._

_“Rex, go line up the pool balls.” Barry said, nodding toward the pool table far in the back of the place. “We’ll see if you can win back some of your money.”_

_The man, Rex, eyed Joe a last time then nodded. “You got it.” he said then walked away._

_“C’mon.” Barry said to Joe once Rex was gone. “Let’s take a seat.”_

_Joe followed Barry through the crowd. The people still looked at him funny, but everyone seemed too…_ afraid _to say anything, or do anything. They sat down opposite each other at a table; when Joe looked around, he saw none other than Mick Rory and Leonard Snart sitting just a table over. They glared at Joe for a second, then turned their eyes to Barry. The kid shook his head at them, waving them down._

_“What d’you want, Joe?” Barry asked, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms in a determined way. “Not a good place for a cop to be seen.”_

_Joe nodded slowly at that. True, but this was a necessary intervention._

_“I’m here to talk to you, son.” Joe said sternly. “You need to stop this.”_

_A smirk filled Barry’s face. It was an odd look on him. It didn’t suit him. It made him look…like something Joe had never thought, in a million years, that he would become._

_“Stop what?” he asked._

_“This! All of this!” Joe said, his angry-dad shining through the cop-exterior he had hoped to maintain a little longer. “You are_ not _this person. The Barry I knew, the Barry I_ raised _would never do this kinda thing! He would_ never _hurt people like this. The Barry I raised was the sweetest kid I have ever met, and the kindest man to ever walk the Earth. And you?_ You _are not him. I don’t know what happened to you, I wish I did, I wish you’d talk to me, but it did something to you. Something bad.” he said._

 _He was practically on his knees, begging Barry to just_ stop.

 _“Why should I help you?” Barry asked. “Why should I be some goodie-two shoes when I don’t believe in what I’d be fighting for? I fought Metas.” he said, his glare burning a hole through Joes body. “I saw how much people hated them._ Hated us. _No matter what you say, it’s not gonna change the fact that I’ve got more in common with_ them _than with you. And the Barry you knew? He’s still here. He’s right in front of you. I just realized that you,_ or anyone _, have no business telling me who I am anymore. I was that kid._ I am that kid. _I still love you like a father, which is the_ only _reason you’ll actually be walking out of here. If you were anyone else, you’d be_ crawling _out of here.” he bit. “If you were that lucky. If you’ll excuse me, I have a game of pool waiting for me.”_

_Barry got up and stormed away towards the pool table, where his opponent waited._

_Joe wanted, for the first time in his life, to slap Barry across the goddamn face! These days, that seemed like the only way to get through to him! He wouldn’t_ _listen to reason. He had become like the rest of the people in that pub; someone who acted only in violence, not in thought or in words._

_Joe got up, drawing his gun and aiming at Barry’s back._

_“Don’t make me do this, Barry!” he shouted,_ he begged, _with tears streaming down his face. “If you walk away now, I can’t help you.”_

_Barry stopped._

_The whole crowd waited with bated breath. Even Snart and Rory sat quietly._

_“If you walk away…you made your choice.”_

_Barry took another step._

_Joe squeezed the trigger._

_The noise filled the room, followed less than a split-second later by lightning._

_Barry appeared just a foot away from Joe. He grabbed Joes coat, and pulled him closer._

_“You made this choice.” Barry bit at him._

_Joes eyes went wide when Barry held up the bullet that had just been fired from his gun. He let Joe go, for a moment, then grabbed his wrist and forced his hand open. Barry pressed the bullet into his palm, closing his fist around it._

_“Get him outta here.” Barry said then stepped back again._

_The mob of criminals flooded onto Joe. They dragged him out of Saints and Sinners, tossing him into the street._

_How was he supposed to tell Iris about this?_


	4. No One Knows What It’s Like to Be Hated

_Title from: Behind Blue Eyes, by Limp Bizkit_

 

Barry’s knees gave out.

He fell to the concrete and didn’t make a sound. His eyes were on Joe; Joes body, the corpse probably already growing cold with no blood pumping to warm it.

This…this wasn’t possible. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. Wells couldn’t be alive, because Len had killed him, and if Wells was dead then Joe had to be alive. But there Barry was, staring at Joes body. He was at Joes side in less than half a second. His hands went to the big wound in Joes chest. _God, so much blood, fuck, why wouldn’t it stop?_ Joes empty eyes stared into the sky and his cheeks were still wet with tears. Barry held the body close; _why was he so stupid? Why hadn’t he listened to Joe? Why had he been so stubborn? It was all Barry’s fault, if he had just listened none of this would have happened!_

“Joe…Joe, please. Please, do-don’t.” Barry stammered, hugging Joe to his chest. “Please, don’t leave me. Please, don’t go. Don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Joe. P-Please. Please, don’t.”

Barry felt completely empty inside. Like everything had been scooped out of him, leaving him an empty skin-suit.

“Flash! Flash, what’re you feeling right now?” the cameraman shouted at him, running up to Barry with his camera at the ready. “How d’you know Eobard Thawne? What d’you think this message means?”

Barry could practically feel himself snapping.

He had the cameraman against a wall before the poor guy even knew what was happening. Barry wanted to swing at him! He wanted to cave his skull in!

But Barry left him there.

He took Joes body and disappeared in a flash.

*

Everything seemed to stop when Barry skid to a halt in the precinct, Joes precinct.

His body seemed to crumble under the weight of Joe. _Fuck_ , he weighed so much, he dragged Barry down to the floor and drew the tears out of him.

When every cop on that floor pulled their guns on him, Barry knew it was time to go. He released Joe, hands shaking as he raised them. The blood had soaked through his suit; Barry was all wet with it and he felt sick. Oh, God, Barry wanted to throw up. His stomach was turning. The coppery smell of blood was like a brick to the face. He could nearly taste it, and it made him even more nauseous.

Singh came to the front of the pack, looking down at Barry.

“Out of respect for Joe,” Singh said, his voice sounded unsteady. “-you have exactly ten seconds to get out of here.”

Barry was gone before he even started counting.

*

Mick and Len were waiting in on the porch when Barry returned to their safe house.

The stood in the yellow glow of the porch light. They looked down at him from the top of the steps with sympathy written all over their faces. Barry could barely make it up the three steps, having to sit down before reaching the top. His insides were clenching. His stomach was turning. Fuck, he was going to throw up.

They sat down beside him, Mick on his right and Len on the left. One of them lay a blanket over him when he shuddered. It wasn’t from the cold of the early night though. It was everything but. It was the image of Joe standing right there in front of him, just a few feet away, and Barry being too fucking slow to react, too slow to save him. Too slow to fight Wells, or Thawne, or whatever he wanted to call himself.

He could feel the blood crusting under his suit, it glued the fabric to his skin and pulled at the fine hairs all over his body. God, he felt sick…

The criminals jolted slightly in surprise when Barry flashed away from them. He appeared again in the middle of the lawn, on his knees and puking his guts out. It was all alcohol and bad pub food and stomach acid; the smell was rancid and the taste even worse.

_Fuck! Why?! Why? Why Joe?! Why did he kill Joe? What did he want?! Barry didn’t understand! What was the point?!_

“C’mon, Barry.” Mick said softly beside him, his hand landing on Barry’s back. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

Len was on Barry’s other side, laying the blanket over him again. “We’ll get you in a bath, then we can go to bed.” he suggested.

Barry couldn’t talk. He couldn’t think. All he could see was the image of Joe dying, right there in front of him.


	5. The Savior of the Broken

_Title from: Welcome to the Black Parade, by My Chemical Romance_

 

Four days since the whole city watched Joe die.

Four days that Barry had spent in bed, crying his eyes out.

It was time for the funeral. The department had put it together quickly, out of respect. Joe would be buried with full honors and all. Detective Thawne would read the eulogy, a flag would be given to Iris, and a salvo would be shot. Barry had dressed up in a black suit. Hopefully, if he kept his sunglasses on, he could blend into the masses and go unnoticed. All he wanted was to be there for the funeral, that was it. He had no thoughts in his head about starting any trouble, he just wanted to be there. Maybe say a quick word to Iris.

They hadn’t spoken in months. She had tried to turn him around, even after Joe had failed, several times in the first few months. It wasn’t until Barry put his fist through a glass door and screamed at her to ‘ _go be an annoying cunt somewhere else’_ , if his memory didn’t deceive him, that she gave up. Barry had felt horrible about that since the moment he said it. She punched him in the nose for it, and told him to pull his head out of his ass.

She probably hated him; now, more than ever. She had watched him stand by as her father was murdered. She had watched him not move a muscle to save him. Barry wanted to speak to her, to at least tell her he was sorry for everything he had done to her and to Joe. For everything he had said. It was likely that she would never want to see him again, and he would respect that if it turned out to be so, but he wanted to at least try.

“Sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Len asked.

Barry straightened his tie then turned around. Mick and Len sat on the foot end of the bed, watching him get ready.

“Yeah.” Barry said. His voice was more forced than expected. “You’ll draw attention. It’ll be easier to blend in if I go alone.”

“We could wait for you.” Mick offered. “Outside the cemetery.”

Barry shook his head. “No. It’s fine.” he insisted. “I’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure if it was true or not.

Even after everything they had said and done, Joe was still the man that had raised him; he was still the man who had fed him, housed him, helped him with his homework, left the light on in the hallway when Barry was scared of the dark, and worked double shifts to put him through college. Joe was still like a father to him, and Barry had never in his life wished any harm to him.

“It’s almost time.” Barry said. “I should get going.”

Mick and Len got up. They both hugged him, one after the other, and kissed his forehead.

“We’ll be right here when it’s over.” Len promised. “Just come back here, and we’ll watch a movie or something. Whatever you want to do.”

Barry nodded slowly.

“We’ll order some pizza, keep it waitin’ for ya.” Mick said, attempting a small smile.

Barry forced a soft smile onto his face. “Thanks.” he said. “That sounds nice.”

He took a deep breath, and sped away.

*

Barry came to a perfect halt half a block up the street from the cemetery. He did a quick once over of himself, checking for smoke trails and singes to his suit. As long as he didn’t run too fast, his clothes were mostly unharmed. He had to pat out a few embers on the legs of his slacks, but the damage was not too visible.

He could see the stream of people heading to the cemetery; many of them were cops, dressed up in their finest uniform, and Barry recognized a lot of them from his days at the precinct. There were many people dressed in all black, probably victims Joe had aided or family of such coming to pay their respects. Barry was glad for it. Iris would see, maybe for the last time, how good of a cop, of a man, her father had been.

Barry fell into the flow of the crowd. He kept his head down, sunglasses pushed far up on his nose. For a moment, he even prayed that no one would pay him any mind. He sat far in the back of the rows of chairs set out on the grass. The sermon passed in a daze. The priest droned on and Barry wept silently. A nice old lady that sat beside him offered him a tissue and patted his arm.

Detective Thawne stepped up to the podium. Barry had never seen him in the uniform, a few medals weighed on his jacket.

“It’s always a tragedy when we lose a brother in blue. Even more so, I think, when they’re as good as Joe West.” Eddie said. His voice was a little unsteady. Barry could see, even from so far in the back, that his eyes were red and puffy from crying. “Because Joe wasn’t just a good cop, he was a good man too. The best I’ve probably ever known. He cared about everyone and everything that he met. He was…incredibly selfless. And he loved his children above all else, Iris and, though the kid might have taken a turn down the wrong path, Barry too. The few times Joe talked about himself, it was only in passing, before moving on to talk about how great his kids were.” he said, smiling as he did. “And I don’t really know what I can say. What words would ease this enormous pain, so I’ll just say that…Joe would want us all to leave here with only good in our hearts. Only kindness, because that was the kind of person he was, and I know it’s the kind of people he would want us all to be.”

It was awful. Barry’s whole chest clenched at every word. He wanted to throw up again. He felt so incredibly sick.

Eddie stepped down and took a seat again.

As the salvo was shot, the pall-bearers folded up the flag that lay over Joes coffin. It was delivered into Iris’ lap, and Barry wanted to scream. He wanted to sit beside her and tell her how incredibly sorry he was, for everything.

People started getting up. Iris stood next to the coffin, Eddie beside her, and greeted people as they passed. Every single one of them offered their condolences and sympathies, some put flowers on the coffin. Barry made sure he was last in line. If Iris got upset, or if he himself did, he didn’t want any more people around for it than necessary. Barry’s heart pounded louder and louder in his ears the shorter the line got. Soon enough, he stood right in front of Iris. She stared up at him with wet eyes as he removed his sunglasses.

“I…” he attempted, and failed.

He cleared his throat as best he could.

“I just wanted to say…I’m sorry.” Barry said lowly. “I didn’t…I never wanted this.”

Iris didn’t say a word. She handed the flag over to Eddie, who took it without a word of protest. Barry didn’t make a sound as Iris slapped him; he could feel her sharp nails make thin cuts over his cheek. They were gone in just a moment though, and Iris still glared at him. He supposed he deserved it, after all he had done. Honestly, he probably deserved a lot more than just a slap. There was no way he deserved the embrace Iris enveloped him in. There was no way he deserved to feel the arms of this kind-hearted woman around him.

She stepped back a second later, and pushed him away as she did.

“Get out of here.” she said curtly.

So that’s how it was.

Barry swallowed the lump in his throat. If she wanted him gone, he wouldn’t bother her for a second.

“Before anyone sees you.” she added.

His eyes darted back up from the grass, meeting hers.

“But...don’t be a stranger.”

Barry nodded quickly.

“I won’t be.” he promised in a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sad about this, man, like really. I am legit on the verge of tears just going through this for mistakes before posting. And jeez, man, I was crying like a baby when I wrote it :(  
> Hope you like it tho, it's a kind of emotional chapter <3


	6. Ice Has Melted Back to Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:  
> Chapter 16 of 'Trouble Seems to Follow' has been edited slightly, due to the fact that I needed to change Wells' death-scene a little bit to make things just a tiny bit easier for myself in the future. I suggest you go check it out, just to stay up to date on things! <3

_Title from: Emperor's New Clothes, by Panic! At the Disco_

 

It was early when Barry rolled out of bed.

He still felt like utter shit since yesterday, but at least now he knew that Iris didn’t completely hate him. That made the bubbling in his gut still, even if just a little. Maybe he could, somehow, mend the bridges.

Barry grabbed his hoodie and his pack of smokes then shuffled out of the bedroom. The back-porch was cold under his feet when he came outside. The day was new, the sun had barely come over the horizon. He took a deep breath of the cold morning air before lighting his cigarette. The world smelled incredible right then; before all the people woke up and when the dew still lay like a blanket over the ground.

The breath was stolen from his lungs, though, when a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and he was snatched away at the speed of sound.

For a moment, he was confused. The he recognized the yellow leather that covered the arms. Barry grappled at Wells, Thawne, _whatever_ , as the man ran. The wind rushed by, Barry could feel the friction begin to eat away at his clothes.

Wells stopped and Barry was flung forward. He was thrown to the ground, tumbling through the dirt. The gravel scraped at his bare legs as he rolled, but Barry ignored it. He was on his feet in a blink. Wells stood before him, right where he had stopped, with a smarmy smirk on his face.

“You’re on fire.” Wells said flatly

Barry opened his mouth to spit out a retort, but stopped when he smelled the bitter scent of burning fabric.

“Shit! Shit, fuck!” he spluttered and shrugged out of his hoodie.

He threw it to the ground, watching in exasperation as the flames engulfed it surprisingly quickly. Great, so he would have to fight Wells while dressed in only his boxers and one of Micks old t-shirts.

It didn’t matter! Fuck the hoodie! Who gave a shit?! Wells was right there in front of him! This would end _now!_

Barry felt the electricity, the lightning, crackle in his every cell. It flowed through his body, and rippled over his skin. He sprinted at Wells, a furious war-cry erupting from the deepest, darkest pit of his gut. Barry was going to _rip Wells limb from limb!_ He would tear his heart out and feed it to him! Wells didn’t move a muscle. Good. It was easier to hit a stationary target.

Though, just as Barry was set to tackle Wells, a hand wrapped around the kids throat. It clenched around his neck, ripping him out of super speed to an immediate halt.

“You’re not strong enough to beat me, Barry.” Wells hissed at him, clenching his hand just a little more. Barry gasped for air, and clawed at the leathery suit. “You’re not fast enough. Don’t even try it. It’s a waste of your time, and mine.”

Wells let go. Barry hit the ground again, coughing and wheezing for every breath.

“What d’you want from me?” he spat with a rough voice as he failed in his attempts to get up.

The gravel was painful under his hands and knees. It was hard to breathe. It was like Wells had crushed his windpipe, and Barry’s body had to rebuild it from the ground up.

Wells took a knee, for once lowering himself to Barry’s level.

“I want you to fulfill your destiny.” Wells said, still smiling at a joke only he had been let in on. “Reach your full potential, Barry. Killing your mother was supposed to be motivation enough, but…apparently, I was wrong.”

Barry’s glare was deadly.

“So you kill Joe and threaten everyone I love?” he bit between laboured breaths. His voice was still as coarse as sandpaper. “Tell me, how is that supposed to make me wanna have anything to do with you?”

Wells actually chuckled at that, rising to his full height again. “You don’t need to have anything to do with me. Honestly, you can forget I exist for all I care.” he said and shrugged. “As long as you go back to your heroic ways, I won’t bother you.”

It was too good to be true. There had to be a catch, a condition. Wells had killed Joe and threatened everyone Barry knew, Barry doubted Wells was doing this out of _the good of his heart._

“But stray from the path…” Wells continued. “-you already know what will happen if you do.”

There it was.

There was the catch. His condition. Barry couldn’t be the way he wanted to be, do what he wanted to do, without getting people killed. If he stepped off the _straight and narrow_ , so to speak, another person he loved would be murdered; probably right in front of Barry’s eyes, maybe the whole city, just to prove a point.

Barry stumbled to his feet. He massaged his aching neck, watching the second speedster.

“Fine. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.” Barry said, voice raspy. He couldn’t let anyone else die. Not Iris, or Henry, Mick and Len, or anyone else Barry even minutely cared about. “I’ll do anything, just don’t…don’t hurt anyone else.”

“There we go!” Wells said and smiled. “See? You still have a little hero in you.”

“Just tell me!” Barry said, clenching his fists

“First of all, get rid of your little mascots.” Wells said flippantly. “What are their names? Snart and Rory?”

“What?”

Wells scoffed, looking at him as if he was dumb as a rock. “You’re a hero, Barry. Heroes don’t associate with people like them.” he said.

“No.” Barry said, shaking his head. “I won’t lea-“

“Yes, you will!” Wells growled. He was suddenly right in front of Barry, so close their noses were almost touching. “If not, I’m sure the CCPD would appreciate receiving their heads in a box.”

“No!” Barry begged. “No, no, no!”

Not Mick! Not Len! Anything, _anyone_ , but them!

“Okay! I’ll do it! I’ll leave them, okay?” he shouted at Wells as the man stepped back. “Don’t hurt them! Please! Just don’t hurt them.”

Wells hummed. He grabbed his cowl and pulled it over his head until it covered his face.

“Don’t give me a reason.”


	7. All My Life, There They Go

_Title from: Rawnald Gregory Erickson the Second, by STRFKR_

 

Mick and Len nearly tackled him to the floor when Barry came into the house again. Len was wrapped around him like a boa constrictor, hugging him so tightly, and Mick was on top of that with a grip every bit as tight.

“God, Barry, you scared us.” Len muttered in his ear.

“Heard you screamin’ out back, but you were gone when we got out.” Mick explained, murmuring into Barry’s head of hair. “Scared the crap outta us.”

“I’m sorry.” Barry said softly, speaking right into Lens shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I came out and then Wells was the-“

“Wells?” Len said sharply.

They pulled back quickly, eyes and hands running over Barry’s body in search of injuries.

“Did he hurt ya?” Mick growled. “Tell me you snapped his neck.”

Barry shook his head. The air leaving him in a heavy exhale. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave them again. Not again. Barry couldn’t drive them away again.

“N-No…” Barry said lowly. “We talked. He talked. He…he told me what he wanted.”

Len nodded quickly, as Mick ran his hand over Barry’s head in some comforting gesture. “What’d he say?” Len asked. “What does he want?”

“Anythin’ we can do?” Mick asked. “We’ll do anythin’ you need us to.”

This was…horrible. Worse than the last time they had been separated. Barry wanted to be with them for every second of every day, but Wells would hurt them if they stayed together. If he hurt them, Barry wouldn’t live through it. Not so soon after Joe, not ever at all. He never wanted to be without them, but again, Wells was forcing him. Barry already knew Wells had no problem with killing people to make a point; that comment about heads in boxes still rang through Barry’s head, and he didn’t doubt that Wells would gladly deliver on it.

“He…he said I’m supposed to be a hero.” Barry said lowly.

_Fuck, he could barely say it!_

“Okay.” Len said, sounding a little confused. “Why? Why does he want that?”

“I don’t know!” Barry swore as he stepped back, hands running through his hair. “He said something about destiny and reaching my potential or something! A-And he said…”

They didn’t follow him. They knew he only pulled away from them if he wanted the space, the room to breathe and to think. Mick and Len stood in place, watching him patiently.

“What did he say, Barry?” Mick asked, gently urging him to continue.

“I...”

He had to, but fuck, he didn’t want to!

“He said I can’t be with you.” Barry said.

His voice would barley come out, he could barely make the words exit his mouth. Tears were rushing down his face like a torrential rain. Mick and Len stared at him. They looked so confused and worried. All Barry wanted was to be with them, and he couldn’t even have that. He wasn’t even allowed to keep this one thing. The rest? All the money and the art and shiny rocks, everything they had stolen? _Barry didn’t give a shit!_ Wells could have all of it! He could take it all, as long as Barry could just have Mick and Len! They could live on the street and dig through dumpsters for all Barry cared, as long as they were together.

“What?” Mick said, sounding confused as hell. “He said that?”

Barry nodded. “I-I’m supposed to be some big _hero!_ And heroes don’t fuck criminals!” he shouted.

He was so angry! He still didn’t understand shit! Why was he supposed to be a hero?! Who gave a shit?! Wells was supposed to be dead, why did he care if Barry was a hero?

“You need to go!” Barry said. “You need to run as far as you can! He said…he said if we stayed together _he’d kill you!_ H-He’d cut your fucking heads off a-and put ‘em in a box and give ‘em to the cops!”

Mick snorted. “He can try.” he said.

He jumped slightly when Barry flashed to them, appearing just inches away, but settled quickly when Barry cradled his face with his hands.

“No, you don’t understand!” Barry insisted, unable to stop crying. “He’s so fast! Faster than I’ve ever been, and stronger! A-And I could never fight him, Mick! He’s too strong.”

Mick nodded quickly. “Okay. Okay, okay.” he said in his softest voice, taking Barry’s wrists in a gentle grip. “We’ll go.”

“Mick.” Len said sharply.

“No, Len.” Mick responded without looking away from Barry. “We’ll go. We’ll keep our distance. Do what he says. We’ll...we’ll figure something out.”

Len nodded then. He stepped closer, laying one hand on Barry’s back and the other on Micks shoulder.

“He’s right.” he said. “Wells, Thawne, whatever his name is, he has a weakness. Everybody does. You just do what he tells you and Mick and I can work on finding his weakness.”

“Okay.” Barry said lowly.

Len moved his hand to Barry’s neck, pulling the kid to him. Barry’s head came to rest on Lens shoulder as Mick let his arms loop around them both, holding them close to himself. They all hated this. Again, they were being broken apart, torn away from each other. Why did the Universe not want them to be together? What had they possibly done in their previous lives to warrant this kind of payback? Who deserved to be repeatedly forced away from the people they loved above all else?

Barry couldn’t wrap his had around any of this. His brain couldn’t comprehend it still. Wells was alive, he had killed Joe, and now he was pushing Barry to be a hero and at the same time taking Mick and Len away from him.

“We should clear out.” Len said after some moments. “If Wells took you from here, it’s likely that he’s still watching. Making sure you do as you were told.”

Barry nodded slowly against Lens shoulder. “I know.” he said. “I know. But…before you go, I want you to make love to me. _I don’t wanna forget you when you leave.”_

They all knew that was bullshit; Barry could never forget them, but Barry still feared it. He feared that they would be apart for so long that he would forget what they felt like inside him, on top of him, under him, all around him at once. That he would forget what their voices sounded like when they whispered how much they loved him into his ears as they fucked into him. Barry didn’t want to forget. He never wanted to forget what they made him feel like.

Barry never wanted to forget how his heart raced when he inhaled the scent of cinders that somehow always lingered around Mick. Barry never wanted to forget how his stomach did backflips when he spotted that smirk playing on Lens lips. Barry never wanted to forget how his knees went weak when they were in the same room together. His whole body ached if he was without them for longer than a few minutes at a time. He couldn’t survive without them.

Making love…Barry supposed that for most people that involved taking it slow, making every moment last an eternity, and giving more than you received.

It wasn’t like that for them. It hadn’t been since they got back together after the coma and everything. For them, making love was…it was quick, and dirty, and sloppy, and messy. It involved slamming each other down on the closest horizontal surface and fucking until they passed out. Well, until Mick and Len passed out, and Barry, with practically unlimited stamina and near zero refractory period, got them tucked into bed.

He supposed that that was just how they worked; they wanted each other so bad that making every moment last an eternity was out of the question. They needed to get there, to the place where their insides melted and they were glued together by sweat and cum drying on their skin. Where the world ceased to exist and they moved to a different reality.

Mick and Len fucked Barry over the dining room table. Over it, on it, and, at one point, on the floor beside it after having accidentally rolled off of it. Barry could swear that with every orgasm they pulled from deep inside him, he was born again. With every explosion of white light behind his eyes, his mind was wiped clean and he started anew. With every jolt of electricity jumping through him, the pain of the world was whittled away until it was nonexistent.

He would survive this. He would survive anything Wells threw at him. He had to. Barry had to survive it, so he could be with Mick and Len in that different reality again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM AN EMOTIONAL DUMPSTER


	8. Sinnerman, Where You Gonna Run To?

_Title from: Sinnerman, by Nina Simone_

 

“I can’t _believe_ I’m doing this…” Barry muttered to himself.

He sat across the street from the precinct, in the Motorcar. Len had taken them there a few times, enough for Barry to get a particular taste for the blueberry pie. It was a spot well-chosen; perfect view of the precinct front steps, nice and clear line of sight up and down the street. All in all? Not too shabby.

Now, he just needed to work up the guts to actually get his ass out of his booth and walk in there. How could he though? Sure, he had played at being the betrayer before all this, but now…he had actually become it. Him. Then again, Barry had no choice. If he was going to be the hero that Wells wanted, he needed a team. He needed someone to run communications, like Cisco had. He needed someone to alert him of ongoing criminal ventured and guide him to them, like Cisco had. He needed someone to patch him up after the heroics because God knows people liked to beat on him, Meta or not, and who fit that bill perfectly but Caitlin?

Only people who would do any better than those two, were actual police officers and possibly a team of EMTs and doctors. After everything he had said to Caitlin and Cisco and after what Mick and Len had put them through, it was highly unlikely that the scientists would want anything to do with Barry. The police were the best bet, despite the fact that they all definitively hated him with a burning passion.

How would they look at him?

Barry Allen, the Black Flash…

His black tri-polymer suit, of course made to personal order by one of Mick and Lens _associates_. It looked somewhat like motorcycle gear. All he was missing was the helmet. Instead of it, a pair of black aviators rested on his nose. He was, for all intents and purposes, the stereotypical bad boy. That would all come to an end soon, he supposed. Even if the police wanted nothing to do with him, he would have to go at it alone. He had no choice in the matter.

Barry threw a twenty down on the table for the pie and the coffee, then got up.

“See ya later, Susie!” he called back into the diner as he headed for the door.

“Come back soon, kiddo!” Susie, the always friendly waitress, hollered back.

The bell on the door jingled as he exited. Traffic was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. It was all the perfect formula for a completely normal day in the lives of every officer currently in the precinct.  It wouldn’t be for long.

Barry stopped at the reception desk on the first floor, and the receptionist smiled at him. “Good day, sir!” she chirped. “How can I help you?”

“I need to speak to Captain Singh.” Barry said, smiling with as much charm he could.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Captain Singh is booked all day.” the receptionist said, after glancing at her computer screen. “I can schedule a meeting for next week.”

Barry shook his head, leaning on the desk. “No, that won’t do.” he said. “Could you give him a call? Tell him Allen needs a word with him. I’m sure that’ll open up his calendar.”

“Okay…” the woman said hesitantly, but picked up her phone.

Barry turned away, scanning the lobby while the receptionist made her call. Hm, the usual crowd. Cops moving in and out of the building, some dragging along people in cuffs. Again, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then in a moment, nothing was ordinary.

The elevators dinged almost in unison. Officers and detectives rushed out and surrounded him in practically no time at all. Of course, for Barry they all moved in slow-motion. He had them counted as soon as they got out of the elevators.

Twenty-one cops, plus the eight already in the lobby, twenty-nine in total. All carrying the standard Glock 19 with fifteen shots to it, then assuming that if they were to open fire it would be at least somewhat coordinated and synchronized he would have roughly a quarter of a second between each bullet fired from a single gun, meaning four bullets per second from twenty-nine guns. Four times twenty-nine equals 116 bullets per second. The average muzzle velocity of a handgun would be 120 meters per second, and considering there was roughly two meter between him and the closest gun, roughly four meters to the farthest…yeah, there was no way he could dodge all 116 bullets. Possibly, those fired from the farthest guns, but even that would be a stretch. One gun and one bullet, that he could dodge. Not twenty-nine guns and 116 bullets.

 _Play it cool_. He knew the math, they did not. To them, he was still the fastest man in the world. The Black Flash, who dodged a million bullets before breakfast on his day off.

“Hello!” he said and smiled.

He raised his hands, tipping his head so he could look over the brim of his sunglasses.

“Get on your knees!” Eddie, at the front of the firing squad, shouted at him. “On your knees! Hands behind your head!”

Barry sighed, rolling his eyes at him. “Oh, c’mon, Eddie.” he said. “When have I ever followed orders?”

“Barry!” Eddie shouted, taking a risky step towards the speedster. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to!”

The speedster in question hummed at him. “Funny, that’s what Joe said before shooting at me. You know how that ended?” Barry asked, forcing his voice to remain steady at the thought of Joe. “Here’s a hint! I caught the bullet and gave it back!”

“Get on your knees, Barry!” Eddie ordered. “I am _not_ gonna say it again!”

“Fine!” Barry groaned.

He lowered himself, moving slowly lest their trigger fingers happen to get a little itch. He came to his knees and interlocked his hands behind his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is going kinda slow on this one, so posts might be few and far between for a little while, but I'm tryin' my bestest, babes!  
> P.S:  
> I have failed like 90% of all the maths classes I've ever taken, so sorry if my math is off...


	9. Choose a Path That Will Never Hurt Anyone Else

_Title from: Toe to Toe, by Streetlight Manifesto_

 

Eddie shoved Barry down in the chair before Singh, who glared disapprovingly at the young criminal.

“You want me to stay, Captain?” Eddie asked, eyes not leaving Barry.

“No. It’s fine.” Singh said, he too not looking away from Barry for even a second. “You wanted to talk, right? No trouble?”

Barry smiled. He lifted his cuffed hands and removed his sunglasses, hooking them onto the hem of his t-shirt.

“None at all, Captain.” he said, his smile as sweet as sugar.

Len always told him he was cute and that he could play on it. Apparently people tended to associate cuteness with innocence, therefore making them unconsciously lower their guard. Len was the expert on all that psychology stuff, so Barry did as he was told. Then again, black leather screamed bad boy as they all knew so maybe sugar sweet smiles didn’t do much of anything for him.

The Detective gave him a last glare then stormed out of the office. The glass windows rattled with the force of the door slamming behind him. Once he was gone, Barry let out a breath and leaned back in his seat. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands, thumbs tapping quite impatiently against his fingers. Singh stared at him, he stared at Singh.

It had been a year, and Singh had barely changed. A little greyer at the temples, and his beard was salted with white hairs as well. A year of fighting Metas and generally trying to keep the city from collapsing in on itself? Barry assumed it had been a stressful time. They had handled it well, though. Under lesser men, Barry wouldn’t give the city a week! The Metas would have wreaked havoc, cleared the path for regular human scumbags to deal with the rest of it.

“What do you want, Mister Allen?” Singh asked.

His voice was tense, a moment away from snapping at the speedster.

“To help.” Barry said flatly.

Singh scoffed and leaned back in chair, shaking his head at the ridiculous notion. “Help? You wanna _help_ us?” he asked. “Only way you could help us is if you handed over yourself _and_ the rest of you little Rogues gallery. And I mean all of them. Rory, and the Snart siblings.”

“Well, that isn’t happening.” Barry said. “Ever. But, you saw the news. You saw Wells, or Thawne or whatever he wants to call himself. You saw what he did. _He killed Joe._ ”

Singh nodded. “And that’s a tragedy. Joe was a good cop and a good man. A brother to every person in the city with a badge. But what the hell does his death have to do with _this_?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at Barry.

He was obviously referencing the fact that Barry wanted to ‘help’ the police. For Singh, this was a pretty unmotivated turn of events. He didn’t know what Barry knew, what Wells had told Barry. That would have to change. Barry wasn’t particularly excited about telling _anyone_ that Wells was stronger, and faster, than him, but there was no other option. There was no way Singh would have any dealing with Barry unless he knew exactly what was at stake.

Barry exhaled softly. His hands vibrated. The cuffs clattered as they fell off his wrists and hit the floor. Singh was, going by the look on his face, surprised. The speedster dragged his chair closer to the Captains desk, and leaned his elbows on it.

“Here’s the deal.” Barry said flatly. It was the hope that when seeing how seriously Barry took this matter, Singh would do the same. “Yesterday, Wells and I had a little…sit-down, I guess you could call it. He told me what it is he wants, and gave me his terms. Of a sort.”

Singh sighed. He ran his hands over his face, seemingly contemplating the situation for a moment. He was done in a second and leaned forward with his most serious cop-face on. Honestly, Barry had missed that look. Just a little.

“So. Tell me.” Singh ordered.

Barry nodded quickly. “I don’t know why, but he wants me to be a hero.” he said, and Singh scoffed again. “Huff and puff all you like. I’m gonna be doing this with or without the help of the CCPD. Wells threatened me. Me, Iris, Len and Mick, and everyone I care about. My guess is that if he runs out of heads to sever, he’ll start going after others. Innocent people.” Barry explained. “He obviously has no trouble murdering people. People will die _en masse_ if I don’t do what he says.”

Singh didn’t seem to believe him. The look on the Captains face was…hesitance. Disbelief and distrust. Barry didn’t blame him. As mentioned, Barry had _become_ the turncoat he had played at being. He was surprised Singh had even agreed to speak to him. Barry had expected to be dodging bullets by now.

But there was some smidgeon of belief in Singh. There had to be, or he would already have gotten Barry hauled down to lock up or, worse, taken a shot at him. Barry had to convince him. Somehow, he had to appeal to Singh’s sense of Justice; just like Joe, Singh wanted nothing more than to protect the innocent and lock up the guilty.

Barry had to cut a deal.

“How about this.” Barry said, leaning back from the desk again. “I play the hero for a while. Mick and Len are already workin’ on figuring out Wells’ weaknesses. Some way to take him out. Once it’s done and he’s out of the picture, I surrender.”

 _That,_ certainly got Singh’s attention. The Captain straightened in his chair. His hands clasped a little tighter.

“Go on.” he said.

“I surrender to your department.” Barry said. “And…”

Barry exhaled deeply. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

“And I face justice for my crimes.”

“And what crimes would that be, Mister Allen?” Singh asked.

If not for the professional look and tone of voice, Barry would almost have thought Singh was enjoying this.

Barry shrugged.

“Whatever you got on me.” he said. “Plus, about a hundred more you probably don’t know about.”

Singh hummed.

“I think we can work something out.” he admitted. “But how do I know you’ll keep your end of the deal?”

“I guess you’ll need a little faith.” Barry said and it was no joke.

Even he wasn’t sure whether or not he would make good on his word. It was a shitty deal on his end, really. He would play hero for God knows how long only to get locked up for it.

But Singh nodded.

“These days, I think we all need a little faith.” he said and stood up out of his chair.

Barry mirrored his action, and shook the hand he was offered.

“Where do I start?” Barry asked.

Why delay the inevitable? Wells didn’t seem to be the patient type. If Barry waited too long before acting, he might jump to conclusions and make another… _example_.

“Head to S.T.A.R Labs.” Singh ordered. “We have the Meta-Human task force there. Best cops from all over the city. Just give me a minute to get them up to speed.”

“Sure thing, boss!” Barry called over his shoulder, already heading for the door.

It seemed as if every single person in the bullpen, cops _and_ robbers, were staring at him when he exited the Captains office. Eddie stood by his desk, phone to his ear but eyes glued to Barry. The speedster put his sunglasses back on with a wide smile.

He fired off a salute to the Detective before making his usual flashy exit.


	10. I Live Now ‘cause The Bad Die Last

_Title from: Could Have Been Me, by The Struts_

 

S.T.A.R Labs was…more intimidating than Barry remembered.

It looked almost completely renovated and rebuilt. Barry hadn’t realized that the CCPD had started holing up there to fight the Metas. Oh, God, it was a good bet that they had roped Cisco and Caitlin into helping them. And those good natured idiots probably joined up! Gladly so, Barry would assume. This thing just got better and better, didn’t it?

Barry headed inside. How bad could it be? He was only there to help. They couldn’t be too mad, could they? Now, they were all, technically, on the same side.

He was in the Cortex in a flash. The people there all jumped in shock at his sudden appearance. A few of the cops went for their guns, but Barry had assumed they had all decided to follow orders when no one actually drew. No one said a word. It was a little tense. They had, for the last year, been on opposite sides of the law. Barry had been breaking it in every way he could think of, and they had tried to catch him for it.

“So…” Barry said as he removed his sunglasses. “Hey, team.”

“Barry.”

He turned on his toes.

Cisco and Caitlin stood in the doorway. Barry forced his face to remain neutral. He kind of wanted to apologize, and kind of not. Yes, he had been a massive asshole to them when all they had wanted was to do good, but he hadn’t exactly been in the best headspace. He had still been torn up from his undercover work, then the coma and the sudden superpowers on top of that…Barry had been all kinds of messed up in the head. Of course, that was no excuse. He had treated them badly, there was no way around it.

Caitlin cleared her throat, coming to her senses again.

“I’ll need hair, skin, and blood samples.” she said as she walked into the Cortex, rounding the big desk that was still centered in the room. “A urine sample, as well. I want to do a full physical work-up. We need to see what kind of state you’re in.”

Barry hummed. He…he honestly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say in that situation.

“And I want you to get on the treadmill too.” Cisco added, following Caitlin into the Cortex. “Looks like you got a new suit, so I need to take a look at it. See if it needs any improvements.”

“Mister Allen.” Caitlin said sharply, entering the off-shoot room of the Cortex where Barry remembered most of the poking and prodding happening. “Get over here.”

She was obviously startled when lightning cracked and he was suddenly perched atop the neatly made bed.

“Don’t do that.” she bit at him in annoyance as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

“Sorry.” Barry said, removing his own gloves and shrugging out of his jacket. “Reflex. It’s second nature these days.”

The doctor hummed. As she drew his blood, Cisco grabbed the speedsters jacket. The engineer was visibly intrigued by the modifications made to his original design.

“It’s nice work.” Cisco said while inspecting a few seems in the fabric. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mick and Len know an engineer, of sorts. Old friend from their juvie days, I think.” Barry explained, bending his arm to hold the cotton wad that Caitlin had put there in place. “He does a lot of black market work. Made a couple flamethrowers for Mick through the years. He was happy to do it.”

“And the original?” Cisco asked then, while Caitlin plucked a few hairs from Barry’s head. “The one I made. What happened to it?”

Barry inhaled sharply at the quick pinch of pain to his scalp. “Ow!” he yelped. “I…well, it kinda went to the chopping block.”

“Oh, man!” the engineer groaned at him. “Really? Why do you hurt me in this way?”

Barry shrugged and allowed Caitlin to scrape some skin off of his arm. “Sorry. I stripped off the cowl myself.” he said. “Then the engineer had to cut it up to figure out how to replicate it.”

Cisco sighed. “Right. Well, what can you tell me?” he asked. “What kinda modifications d’you get?”

“Well, obviously, he made it two-piece. ‘S a lot better for day to day to use, y’know?” Barry said, racking his brain for the list of specs. “He put in a lightweight Kevlar lining, and skid-resistant pads on the major joints. Shoulders, knees, elbows. Steel toed boots, extra support on the ankles too. Oh, and attachable holsters.”

“Dare I ask what you’re holstering?” Cisco hummed, weighing the gloves in his hands.

“Two handguns, either thigh.” Barry said with a smile. “And a couple knives. Just in case.”

Caitlin sighed heavily. “Well, you won’t be needing those again.” she said sharply. “Captain Singh said you are _not_ to go out on any official business while armed.”

Barry hummed. Of course Singh wouldn’t stand for sending an armed Meta-Human out in the city, good intentions be damned. Well, Barry would remember not to tell anyone about his gloves, and hope that Cisco didn’t ask about them.

“Hey, what’s up with these gloves?” Cisco asked then. Barry mentally cursed the Universe. “They seem a little heavy.”

“Yeah.” Barry said. “Yeah, he put in some light-weight titanium shells over the knuckles. Give each punch that extra pop, y’know?” he explained with a smile.

It wasn’t a complete lie. The titanium shells were actually in there, but they weren’t the only thing. He could keep that fact to himself, though. He barely ever used them anyway. Until it was absolutely necessary, no one needed to know.

“Alright, strip down!” Cisco ordered him then. “I should check out the suit. Make sure everything’s in good shape.”

“Yes, and we might as well get the physical over with.” Caitlin suggested and grabbed her clipboard and pen, having finished labeling her samples.

Barry hummed and hopped off the bed, dropping his pants. “As long as you’re not plannin’ on puttin’ your finger up my ass.” he said as he kicked off his boots. “I got enough of that last night.”

Cisco snorted and actually let out a short laugh at the off-color joke. Caitlin frowned as disapprovingly as ever.

*

“Man, this suit’s some good work!” Cisco said as he placed the suit back on the bed next to Barry.

The speedster nodded, but said nothing. Caitlin had her stethoscope against his chest. He breathed deeply and slowly, in and out. The doctor had a look of intense focus on her face as she moved the stethoscope around, listening to Barry’s breathing. Finally, she took a step back and made a quick note in his chart.

“Everything looks good.” she said. “And your tattoos have healed perfectly too. Just…so you know.”

Barry hummed. He was a little surprised they hadn’t been mentioned before. Lisa had introduced him to one of her friends, who was a tattoo artist, some months ago and he had been goaded into getting inked. The first one had been almost a given; the classically styled heart with roses in the center of his chest, with a dagger stabbed through it and a banner of text across it. _Nora_. His mother’s name. Something in remembrance.

A black and grey storm over his right upper arm, bolts of white lightning crackling through the black clouds. The playing cards on the back of his neck, King of Hearts and King of Spades duking it out with their swords. The pale blue snowflake on his left collar bone, and the ball of fire on the right. The police badge on his left forearm, with a fully blooming iris right there beside it. At the moment, that was his favorite of the bunch.

They were all easy to decipher.

“Yeah, I…I kinda got hooked after the first one.” he said, tapping at the heart.

“They’re beautiful.” Caitlin said.

A small smile crept onto her lips. Oh, God, she didn’t hate him…it felt as if a weight had been lifted from Barry’s shoulders. Barry wanted to go back in time and slap some sense into himself. He shouldn’t have treated them like he had. They hadn’t deserved it, either of them. They had tried to help him be good, and he had repaid it by being anything but.

“I’m sorry.” Barry said flatly, eyes cast down at the floor. “I was an asshole. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Cisco sighed and took a seat on one of the stainless steel stools. “It’s okay.” he said, Caitlin nodding slowly in agreement. “We pushed you pretty hard.”

“We didn’t know about all stuff you’d been through until after.” Caitlin added. “The coma and everything was just…too much, we guessed. We should’ve given you more time. Some space to work things out for yourself.”

“We…we felt pretty terrible too.” Cisco said, then smiled and poked Barry in the knee. “It was as much our fault as yours, is what we’re saying.”

Barry smiled, playfully batting after Cisco’s hand which made both he and the doctor laugh lightly.

“How about this,” Barry said for the second time that day. “-we’re all assholes, but all is forgiven?”

Caitlin and Cisco glanced to each other for a moment, then nodded almost in sync.

“That sounds nice.” the doctor said.

“One question though.” the engineer said after a moment. “Why’d you do it? Switch sides. I mean, you were getting pretty good at being a hero.”

That was a question Barry had waited for, he supposed. No one had asked it yet, and he hadn’t thought too much about it. Honestly, he hadn’t done much thinking at all in the last year. Everything was simple and easy, clean cut, so there wasn’t much to think about. He was a Meta, they were humans, and they were in conflict. He had Mick, Len, and Lisa, and everyone else was an adversary; the criminals wanted to beat their work, the cops wanted to put them away, everyone else was in the way.

It was a war. Metas and humans were the two sides; the criminals, the cops, and the civilians were three factions spliced into them. Barry didn’t _want_ to think about it. Not now. There was too much going on for him to dig himself into that early grave. With Wells looking over his shoulder, Barry couldn’t get distracted with those thoughts. There was too much at stake.

He was saved by the bell. Or by the cop who came running into the examination room.

“Car chase in progress! Armed perps on MC’s, squad cars can’t keep up!” the cop shouted at them. “Singh radioed, he wants him on it!”

He was pointing at Barry, who wasted no time in grabbing his suit.

“Take this!” Cisco said, pulling a small clear box from his pocket and handing it to the speedster. “Earbud. It’s routed through our satellite so we’ll be able to stay in contact pretty much wherever you go!”

“Got it!” Barry said as he stepped into his boots, pants not even buttoned and jacket and gloves under his arm.

As always, he was gone in a flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back! (Not that I went anywhere in the first place haha)  
> I am writing on this fic, but it's going really, REALLY slow. I don't get why! It's gone so well on this fic before, and on the earlier works in the series it was quick and easy too! It's like, for some reason the Universe decided 'Nope! Fuck you!' and I am just :/  
> ANYWAY! Like I was trying to say: I am working on this fic, but it'll be very slow. Updates will be slow but I hope you'll stick with me like you have up until now!  
> As always, please keep leaving comments because I want to know everything you're thinking and feeling while you're reading, and any way I can improve this work!  
> Hope you like the chapter! <3


	11. Ain't No Sleep When the Wicked Play

_Title from: Wicked Ones, by Dorothy_

 

“Where am I goin’, Cisco?” Barry asked, racing through the city.

“They’re on Summit Street, heading onto Main Street!” Cisco responded in his ear. “Four bikes, four guys!”

“Copy!” Barry responded. “I’m gonna cut ‘em off on Tenth Avenue.”

“I’ll call it in. The whole city’s watching, so behave!”

Barry zig-zagged through traffic, leaving trails of glass from blown out car windows. He clutched Officer whatever’s service weapon tightly. Sure, no one wanted him on the streets with a gun, but these guys were armed. Therefore, Barry would assume that they had no moral qualms when it came to hurting people. Main Street was the heart of the city, running from one end to the other, and it was always packed with people. Barry believed his… _acquisition_ of a firearm could be excused, just this once.

Barry came to a stop in the intersection of Tenth and Main. Traffic skid to a screeching halt, drivers slamming on their horns. He could see the bikes coming towards him. They too were zig-zagging between cars, occasionally blind firing over their shoulders in hopes of hitting the cops. The civilians were moving their vehicles as best they could, but the masses were making it nearly impossible.

This had to end, before someone got hurt.

He jumped up on the roof of one of the cars standing in the intersection, and raised his stolen weapon.

_Bang!_

Right shoulder, first biker crashed into the tail end of a car and was launched over it. He hit the street with a muted groan of pain.

He gained the attention of the other bikers. They turned their guns to him, but ignored their fallen comrade. Hm, no honor among thieves; they didn’t care who died, as long as they got away with the bait. Whatever that was.

Barry fired again. The second biker crashed into the side of a bus. And again! The third, his bike skid and he hit the ground with an almost sickening crack of both metal and bones. The bike of the fourth screamed as the rider stomped on the break. He too raised his weapon. Luckily, Barry was _a lot_ faster than the biker.

Four shots in the chest, and the rider fell off his bike.

“Done and done.” Barry said, hopping off the car.

 “You got them?” Cisco asked, sounding quite surprised.

“Yup.” Barry said. “They’ll need a couple ambulances though. I think I made a mess.” he said, smiling to himself.

“What?” Caitlin said in his ear. “What does that mean, Barry?”

“Don’t worry, I handled it!” Barry continued.

He slid the gun into the back of his pants, flipping his jacket to cover it. Cameras were already snapping around him. Hm, maybe he should have put on a t-shirt? _Nah_. He whistled to himself as he moved through the lines of cars until he got to the first biker; the guy lay on the concrete, breaths fogging up the visor of his helmet. Barry grabbed him by the jacket, whistling still as he dragged him closer to the front of the car where Barry took a knee. His right hand vibrated intensely. The violent vibrations weakened the metal of the front bumper when he grabbed it; he easily bent it around the biker’s wrist, just to make sure he was still there when the cops finally got there.

Barry moved on to the next, and the next, and the next.

“Cisco!”

“Yeah, man, I’m here!”

“I’m done here.” Barry said and patted the last biker on the shoulder, as he got up again. “Need me anywhere else?”

“Looks like the city’s calm for now.” Cisco responded after a moment. “I think you can head back here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many feelings about Barry trying to be a hero again..  
> I kinda feel like after a year of being a criminal, a year of being a Rogue, the worst of the worst some in Central City might say, that he's sorta forgotten how to be good. Like, he's hung around with so many bad people and done so many bad things that he's forgotten how being the good guy works.  
> As always, PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! <3


	12. My Heart’s an Endless Winter, Filled with Rage

_Title from: Cold, by Five Finger Death Punch_

 

“Barry!” Eddie, who was apparently the head of the task force, shouted as he came into the Cortex.

Barry sat on a wheeled stool, sunglasses on and a lollypop in the corner of his mouth, and was spinning rapidly.

“That’s the name, don’t wear it out!” he responded after taking the lollypop out of his mouth.

Eddie stormed over and grabbed what he could reach of the speedster, which turned out to be the back of his jacket. Barry came to an abrupt stop.

 _“That,_ is not how this taskforce handles situations!” the detective berated, pointing to the monitors where footage of Barry’s attempts at heroism was playing on repeat.

The news anchor was berating Barry’s use of a firearm, and questioning his motives for the attack against the bikers. Barry supposed the people would assume the bikers had done something to wrong him and he was simply getting payback, which was a logical leap given the events of the last year. It would take more heroics, and time, before they started even considering the fact that he may be trying to be a hero again. In all honesty, Barry couldn’t care less what they thought; as long as Wells was pleased with his work, and therefore didn’t kill anyone else, Barry was happy. As happy as he could be without Mick and Len.

“Got the job done, didn’t I?” Barry asked as he removed his shades.

He was getting quite sick of Eddies confrontational behavior. Barry kind of wanted to beat him up just to shut him up, but he doubted that would win him any favors with anyone at all; least of all with Iris.

“You put four people in the hospital!” Eddie informed angrily. “Two of them are in critical condition!”

Barry looked up at him, as if expecting there to be more to the statement. When it became evident that Eddie had nothing more to say at the moment, Barry shrugged.

“And?”

 _“And what?”_ Eddie bit.

The speedster exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes. He got up and licked at his lollypop as he did.

 _“And_ I’m supposed to care because…why exactly?” he asked, still appearing confused by what Eddie was saying.

Eddie opened his mouth to shout again, but quickly swallowed it back down. He bit his lip to keep it in, hands on his hips.

“Because you used to be one of us.” he said flatly, looking around the room at the other cops scattered about. “A good guy.”

Barry scoffed, suckling on his lolly. “Key words being _used to_.” he said. “That was a year ago, but it might as well be a century.”

“I don’t even recognize you anymore, Barry.” Eddie said.

The look on his face was difficult to decipher. There was…anger. Disappointment. And worst of all, _pity_.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you never knew me in the first place.” Barry said flatly.

Who the hell did Eddie think he was? He didn’t know Barry. He never had. They weren’t _friends._ Eddie should have been glad Barry even remembered his fucking name.

“You can try and be a hero all you like, but that doesn’t make up for everything you’ve done.” Eddie bit at him. “You think stopping a gang of bank robbers is just magically gonna make everyone forget the last year? You hurt people, Barry. _Killed people!_ ” Eddie reminded angrily. “How are you any better than Wells?”

Barry’s heart stopped.

What did he say?

_How are you any better than Wells?_

All thoughts of heroism, or his attempts at it, fell out of Barry’s mind. Time slowed to a crawl as he grabbed Eddie by his pretty little buttoned up vest and ran him across the room. When Eddie slammed against the wall, Barry’s hand around his throat and the lollypop discarded on the floor, time snapped back into action. Eddie groaned as the breath was punched out of his lungs and his head was thrown back against the concrete behind him. Barry knew what Mick meant when he talked about the fire, that wildfire that roared in Micks gut at all hours of the day. Barry could feel his own fire starting; a spark of electricity catching on and blowing up into a hellfire.

“ _You_ , are an ant, and I am _a fucking God._ ” Barry hissed, staring into Eddies eyes as the cop struggled to breathe, with his free hand raised and already vibrating in preparation to attack.

He could hear every other cop in the room draw their weapons.

“I could _destroy_ you. I could sever your head, I could _rip_ your still beating heart out of your chest and _fucking show it to you_ ,” Barry spat at the detective. “-I could _tear you limb from limb_ and be gone before anyone could stop me.”

Eddies grip on Barry’s wrist would have hurt were it not for the protection of the speedster’s gloves.

 _“Go ahead.”_ Eddie choked out. _“Do it.”_

Barry was momentarily taken aback. Eddie… _wanted this?_

“Do it!” Eddie ordered when Barry’s grip loosened slightly. “Prove you’re just as bad as Wells. C’mon! _Kill me!”_ he ordered again, eyes darting over to Barry’s raised hand for a split-second. “Prove how bad you are!”

For a moment, _just a single second,_ Barry actually considered it; he considered driving his hand into Eddies chest, he considered punching through Eddies ribcage and _crushing his goddamn heart_. He wanted to kill Eddie. He wanted Eddie to pay for his words. How could Eddie compare Barry to Wells? How could he even _pretend_ as if Barry and Wells were equal to one another, as if they were anything like each other? Wells was _a monster!_ He had murdered a man on live TV! He was terrorizing Barry and driving him out of his fucking mind. Barry would never do that! He would _never_ hurt someone to prove a point!

But…that was exactly what he was considering.

Killing Eddie would just prove him right. Driving his hand through Eddies chest would just make him exactly the same as Wells.

No. Barry wouldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let Eddie be right. He wouldn’t let himself _become_ Wells.

Barry’s grip around Eddies throat tightened again, as the anger burst out of him in the form of a scream. He opened his mouth and screamed his rage out at Eddie. The detective collapsed to the floor as he was let go and Barry disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm staring to slightly hate this thing because writing is going so slow :(  
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter as much as I do. I think it's one of my favorites of this fic so far, I really hope you all feel the same <3


	13. You’ve Gotten into My Bloodstream, I Can Feel You Flowing in Me

_Title from: Bloodstream, by Stateless_

 

He needed a break.

He needed some time just to calm down from all this, and put all that shit out of his mind. Barry couldn’t stand thinking about it anymore. He just needed a fucking break from the world.

Luckily, he knew exactly where to go to get it.

“Flash! My man!” the Doc said as Barry skid to a stop some feet away from him. “How’s it goin’, man?”

Barry shrugged. He headed up the sidewalk to meet the Doc on the street corner. The man whistled to himself as Barry came into the glow of the streetlight above them.

“Fuck, man, you look like shit.” the Doc remarked.

Barry wiped his nose with his sleeve, nodding jerkily. “Shitty day.” he said. “I need a hit.”

The Doc hummed. “Got the cash?” he asked.

Barry nodded again and pulled a roll of bills from his pocket, tossing it over to him. The Doc weighed it in his hand for a moment, then made a low, but appreciative, sound.

“Sure you want it?” the Doc asked. “Saw you on the news. Not good to be sniffin’ powder if you’re gonna be playin’ hero.”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Barry bit at the dealer. “You got your money, just gimme the shit, okay?”

The Doc scoffed at him, but dug his hand into the pocket of his jacket. After a moment he pulled out a brown paper bag. It clinked at he handed it over, which made Barry curious. It didn’t usually do that. He opened it quickly, checking to see what had made the noise.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked when he saw the small, unmarked glass vials. “Where’s my fuckin’ Lift-off?”

Barry was, of course, referring to the baggies of light blue powder that he usually got. The name was dumb as shit, but the drugs were good as hell. These vials were filled with some kind of…red liquid that he had never seen before.

The Doc smiled at him. “Oh, yeah, it’s some new shit we cooked up.” he said. “You burn half the old shit off as soon as you snort it. This goes right into your blood, works in seconds, man. Much better. We call it Warp.” he said with a proud face, speaking the name as if it was the most inventive thing in the fucking Universe.

Barry shrugged. “Whatever you say, Doc.” he said.

Honestly, Barry didn’t give a shit what the drug looked like or what they called it; as long as he got his money’s worth, Barry was happy.

*

This was what Barry had wanted. Just one hit, one high, to cool off. Things never seemed too bad when he got some Lift-off in him. If Doc was right, this Warp thing would be even better; the high would probably last longer too. Doc was usually right about these things.

Barry threw himself down on the couch of his home for the night. He tossed his jacket and gloves aside, kicked his boots off too. He dumped the contents of the paper bag out on the coffee table. Doc had been kind enough to include a bundle of hypodermic needles in the deal too. Barry wasn’t a big fan of injection based drugs, though he did occasionally fuck around with ketamine when he couldn’t sleep, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try it out. If it was as good as promised, he might even change his view on the matter. Four vials, each with enough Warp in them for about two doses. Maybe three, if he was to ration it wisely. For now, though, rationing could go fuck itself.

Barry drew out half a vial into one of the needles. He winced slightly as the needle pricked the crook of his left elbow, but a blink after he had pushed the plunger down…

He practically moaned as he withdrew the needle, tossing it haphazardly onto the table. It clattered slightly, but Barry couldn’t hear it. The Warp was already working. He could almost feel it pumping through his veins and rise to his head. _Fuck…_ it felt amazing. The world melted away around him, the walls of the room he was in fell into oblivion and he floated through space. If there was fire inside him before, it had fizzled out and been replaced with the rolling waves of a calm ocean. With every beat of his heart, every breath he took, another wave of calm euphoria washed over him. Thunder rumbled in his head, the sound was oddly calming.

Lift-off had always put him on edge; it started off like a hit of morphine, making him float among the clouds, but was replaced with a jittery excitement not much later. It also made him uncontrollably horny, but Barry considered that a plus on most nights.

Warp was different. Barry expected the ocean to dry out after just minutes, but it kept going. It kept going, and going, and going, and it got better, and better, and better. He couldn’t even describe it. He had done pretty much every drug he could get his hands on, because why not? The regular stuff only lasted moments, minutes if he was lucky, for him, so there was no real harm in trying them out. He had smoked weed and crack, snorted coke, done meth and cocaine, and popped ecstasy on a pretty regular basis because it gave him that extra kick he sometimes needed to roll out of bed. Warp was better. It was like Docs cook had taken all the best parts of every drug in the world and mixed them together, and somehow left out all the bad parts.

When he woke up some hours later, in the middle of the night, he couldn’t even remember having passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is soooooo slow! :( I'm working on it, but posts will be slow still <3


	14. I’ve Got the Scars to Prove It, Only the Strong Survive

_Title from: The Pride, by Five Finger Death Punch_

 

Barry’s head was pounding when he woke up the next morning. Meta-appropriate drugs had Meta-appropriate hangovers. He dug around in the nightstand until he found his stash. He kept a small one in most of their safe houses, tucked away so his partners wouldn’t stumble upon them. He unfurled the plastic bag and poured out this particular stash onto the mattress next to him. No one but him there this time, no sense in hiding what he was doing. It wasn’t as if Mick and Len were suddenly going to burst through the door and catch him in the act. In the mess of self-medication, Barry found his jar of ecstasy and tossed back a pill.

As mentioned, human drugs didn’t do very much for him nor did they last long in his system, but they served their own purposes for his cause. The momentary spike of energy provided by the beautiful little pill made him physically unable to stay in bed; it was as if ants had started crawling under the soles of his feet. The only way to make it stop was to get up and walk it off. The spike dropped into the haze that was common when taking ecstasy, before Barry had even made it out of the bedroom. Barry stumbled slightly, his head spinning momentarily. He had to catch himself and lean on the closest wall to keep from falling over, but the haze was gone in seconds. His body had burned it off.

The phone in his pocket rang.

“What? What is it?” Barry bit as he answered the call from Cisco. “What d’you want?”

Cisco made a soft noise on the other end. Shit, Barry was being an asshole again. He wanted to slap himself as a reminder that Cisco deserved better.

Barry let out a short sigh, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Cisco.” he said. “I’m just…I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m grumpy. I’m an asshole.”

“Save it for later!” Cisco said, apparently pleased enough with the hastily thrown together apology. “We have a six car pile-up on the west highway going outta the city! Need you there _right now!”_

“Oh, fucking…” Barry sighed, running a hand through his hair.

There should be a law against being a hero before noon. He had literally _just_ gotten out of bed. All he wanted was some damn coffee. And maybe another hit of Warp, but that was a different story.

“Barry!” Cisco reminded urgently.

“Yeah, I’m moving!” Barry said quickly, shrugging out of Micks hoodie as he did.

*

Barry pulled a total of six people out of burning car wrecks. One or two hesitated when they saw his face, not sure what the Black Flash wanted to do to them. But when Barry offered his hand and begged them to take it, that hesitation disappeared again. He dragged the last person, a woman, out of the driver seat of her car and ran her over to where the ambulances had congregated.

 _“Wait! Wait!”_ the woman shouted as he lay her down on the waiting gurney.

“It’s okay, lady, calm down.” Barry said, at least _trying_ to sound empathetic. “You’re safe now.”

“My baby!” the woman screamed, gripping his arm so tightly it actually hurt. “My boy! He’s in the car! He’s still in there! Please! _Please, my baby!”_

_Shit!_

How could Barry miss that? How could he leave a kid in the car?

“I’ll get him, okay?” Barry promised quickly. “I’ll get him out!”

Barry turned on his toes and sprinted back to the wreckage. The fire was spreading from car to car. It wouldn’t be long before they all exploded into an uncontrollable inferno. He had to find that kid _right now!_ Which car was it? Which car did he pull the woman from? Red one! Three of the cars were red, goddammit! It was a…a big one, a sedan! A Volvo! Barry flashed over to the right car, so happy that it hadn’t been flipped on its side or worse, hands vibrating to allow him to rip one of the backseat doors off its hinges. The whine of grinding metal clashed with the wail of the child that sat strapped into a car seat. He couldn’t be more than five, six years old. He was weeping and screaming like only a child could, worsening when he saw Barry. His mother had no doubt told ghost stories about Barry, made certain that the boy would never be entranced by Barry’s Meta-human capabilities.

“Kiddo! Kid!” Barry said, _begged_ , the boy. “You need to come with me, okay?! You’re not safe here!”

The boy shook his head vehemently, tears and snot pouring down his face and mixing with the blood from the gash on his forehead.

“Please, kid! C’mon!” Barry begged again, half climbing into the car to reach for him. “Your mommy’s outside! She’s worried sick about you!”

The kid shook his head again, but at least he had stopped screaming. Barry’s breaths were quick and shallow. The smell of burning rubber was like acid in his lungs. It wouldn’t be long at all before this kid was engulfed in the fire.

“Okay.” Barry said. “Okay, okay, okay. Can you tell me your name?”

He shook his head again. “M-Mommy s-said not to t-talk to strangers!” the kid said, squirming in his seat.

He looked so afraid. Barry just wanted to scoop him up and get him out of there; but if he forced himself, he would just do more harm than good.

“And she’s right!” Barry said, improvising quickly.

 _Fuck_ , he could hear the news choppers circling overhead.

“My name’s Barry!” he offered, doing his best to smile happily. “There! See? I’m not a stranger anymore!”

The kid regarded him for a moment, wiping the snot from his nose with a soot-covered hand.

“Benji.” he whined.

“Okay, Benji!” Barry said, smiling for real then. _Progress!_ “Can you undo your seatbelt for me?”

“I-I’m scared, Ba-Barry!” Benji cried, the tears flowing steady as ever.

Barry nodded quickly. “I know you are, Benji!” he said. “But I need you to be brave, okay? You just need to be really brave for two second and undo your belt then crawl over to me, okay? Then we can go see your mommy!” Barry said and pointed over to the ambulances. “She’s right over there, and she’s waiting for you.”

Benji seemed to hesitate for just a second, before he shook his head and wailed again. _Fuck! Barry was going to walk the fuck away if this stupid ass kid didn’t-_ No. No, now was really not the time for an outburst. Barry needed to be the level-headed one here. A thought struck him, and he pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket.

“Hey, Benji! Look at these!” he said, holding the glasses up. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, there’s nothin’ special about ‘em, but whenever I’m scared, I put ‘em on. Then it’s like…they protect me from the scary stuff. And I feel really brave.” he explained.

“R-Really?” Benji asked meekly.

Barry nodded quickly and smiled again. “Yeah, really!” he said. “Here! You wanna try ‘em on? They’ll protect you from the scary stuff too!”

Benji nodded, wiping his face again before reaching out. Barry reached out too and handed the sunglasses over to the kid. They were much too big for him and nearly slid off his face the moment he let go of them.

“You feel brave?” Barry asked.

His heart raced when Benji nodded once more.

“Okay, can you undo the belt now?” Barry asked as he pulled his jacket off.

It wasn’t completely fireproof, but if anything went wrong, it would hopefully protect Benji enough from the grasp of fire. Benji clicked the button on his car seat, releasing the belt. He shuffled out of the seat as quickly as he could. The fire looked dangerously close to a blow-up. Barry caught Benji with open arms, throwing the black jacket over him before scooping him up. Both Barry and the jacket curled around the kid like a protective cocoon.

Barry had only just taken a step back from the car when he heard a creaking noise like…metal bending under heat.

The warmth of the explosion, the licks of fire, hit him like a brick, feeling as if it was melting the skin off of his bared arms and his face. The shock-wave came next, there was no time for him to even react. Barry was thrown back. He flew over the asphalt for just some feet before he hit the ground again; he landed on his back, air crushed out of his lungs and head feeling as if it had been cracked open. Barry skid across the rough asphalt. It tore through his t-shirt like it was nothing, and did even worse to his skin. _Jesus Christ_ , it felt like his back was on fire! But he knew it wasn’t. No, there was no fire, but his skin had no doubt been scraped off and his muscles had certainly been rasped down. He could literally feel the heat of the fire radiating through the pieces of _bone_ that protruded from his body. The vertebrae, his ribs, his shoulder blades, all of it was laid bare. Barry was honestly surprised he wasn’t gathering up his intestines in a bag.

“Benji!” Barry said quickly, hugging the bundle close to his chest as he tried to roll over onto his side. “Benji?”

Oh, God, he couldn’t even make a proper sentence. All this pain was pulsing through him, pounding in his head. Fuck, the heat and the cold air on his exposed skeleton was sending stabs of agony through him.

“Barry?” the boy whimpered.

The bundle squirmed for a moment, until Benji could poke his head out from under the jacket. The sunglasses had become crooked, spider webs of cracks splitting the darkened lenses.

“Barry?” Benji asked. “A-Are you o-okay?”

Barry scoffed softly but smiled and nodded.

“Yeah.” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Barry tightened his grip around Benji, then stumbled to his feet. Benji clung to what was left of Barry’s t-shirt as if Barry was the only thing keeping him alive. Honestly, he had been. If Benji had been in the car when it exploded, he would have died instantly. At least that was what Barry could have hoped for him. A death so quick that there was no time to perceive pain.

“Keep your head down, Benji.” Barry said, his voice strained as he began to shuffle back towards the ambulances. “There’s…smoke and shi-…stuff. Bad stuff. Don’t look.”

He felt Benji nod against his chest.

It was like a scene from a movie; Barry walked out of the black smoke with Benji safe in his arms. The crowd that had gathered around the ambulances and fire trucks and cop cars cheered as soon as they saw him and the kid. A crew of EMTs ran out from behind the blockades the police had set up. They had a gurney, and tanks of oxygen at the ready.

They had just taken Benji off of him when he collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGSSSSS
> 
> give me comments, i need them <3


	15. Gnashing Teeth and Criminal Tongues

_Title from: This Is Gospel, by Panic! At the Disco_

 

Mick couldn’t believe how fucking bad he missed Barry. They had been apart for less than a week but it already felt like a lifetime. The last time they had gone without each other for more than a few hours it had lasted for nearly a year, and Mick had gone half insane. He wasn’t sure he could take a repeat performance of that. He wasn’t sure Len could either. They were both aching for Barry. There was some kind of itch in their heads that only their speedster could scratch. Mick tried to distract himself; he tore through the city, busting heads and kicking down doors in search for any information on Wells. Len was doing the same, but in a more _civilized_ way as he liked to call it; he was making phone call after phone call, cashing in favors, pulling strings, and making shady deals. Even Lisa was doing her part, by getting everyone they knew to go dark and shutting down Metas. Nearly every Meta in the city had closed up shop and gone underground, some had even gone so far as to bail out of the city entirely. Most human criminals had gotten the memo too, and decided to drop off the map until the dust settled. Central City was safer than it had been in decades, and Barry had barely lifted a finger.

There he was again. _Barry_. Like a scab, Mick couldn’t stop picking and poking at it, at the thought of him. Mick had to stop thinking about him. It would just get worse if he didn’t. He would get wrapped up in fantasies and lose sight of what they were working on.

 _And what were they working on? Glad you asked,_ Mick thought to himself, _let me show you._

He grabbed a pair of beers in the fridge, popping the caps off into the sink, then moved through the apartment to the office. Len sat behind the big oak wood desk as Mick entered, flashing the arsonist with a short smile before getting back to the call he was in the middle of. Mick set one of the bottles down on the desk, drawing a quick nod of thanks out of Len as well. The wall across from the desk was a mess; they had tacked up all of their research, every shred of information they had on Wells, on it. So far? _Nothing._ There was not a single piece of evidence they had to show for all their work that could tell them how Wells got his powers, nor what his real identity was.

For all intents and purposes, Harrison Wells was, up until the point where they thought Len had killed him, a completely normal human. Yes, one with a genius level intellect maybe, but human still. There was no explanation that they could find.

Why was he after Barry? Why force him to be a hero of all things? If he really was so much more powerful than Barry, he could have been a hero himself. There was literally _no reason_ for this that they could see. It, plus the _hopefully_ _temporary_ loss of Barry, was driving them crazy.

“Thanks, Corey.” Len said into the phone. “Yeah, you should leave town for a while. No, I think we’ll all know when it’s safe to come back. See you on the other side.”

Len tossed the phone aside on the desk as he got up, taking a long sip from his bottle.

“What’d he say?” Mick asked, eyes still fixed on their attempt at detective work.

Corey was usually a pretty good informant. He supplied guns to all the worst people the city had to offer, which meant he was often tapped into most of what was going on.

“The supposed man in yellow first appeared eight months ago.” Len said, he too staring intently at the wall. “Caused some ruckus down at the docks, got all the homeless people that flocked there to run for the hills. Appeared a little here and there since then, but nothing major. It’s like he’s been…gathering strength.”

Mick hummed into the bottle as he drank. “But where the hell’d he get his powers is what I’m wonderin’.” he said.

“Maybe he was born with them somehow.” Len suggested with a shrug. “With the world looking like it does, it’s not completely impossible.”

“Yeah, but it’s like his powers’re a copy of Barrys.” Mick muttered. “Except…stronger. Of every possible superpower or whatever, these two people in the same city gettin’ the same powers? That don’t sound likely to me.”

Len nodded. Mick had a point there. Two people getting the exact same powers? That should have been…virtually impossible, yet here they were. Their lives had been pretty much ruined by this asshole with Barrys powers. Len couldn’t wrap his head around this. It didn’t make sense. There were so many questions that they couldn’t answer. What did Wells want? What was he hoping to achieve with all of this? If they could just figure out his motives or his end goal, the rest might…unravel in their hands.

“C’mon.” Mick said.

He moved closer to Len, wrapping his arms around the mans waist and resting his chin on Lens shoulder. Len exhaled softly, leaning his head against Micks.

“Let’s…go get somethin’ to eat. And we’ll head to bed.” the arsonist suggested, murmuring

Len sighed. “No, I’m not hungry.” he said. “I think I’ll stay up for a bit. See what more I can shake loose.”

Mick groaned into Lens shoulder. “Oh, c’mon, Lenny…I can go pick somethin’ up from that Greek place you like. The one down near City Hall?” he goaded, swaying them side to side slowly.

“I’m just…” Len attempted, but gave up after a moment and shook his head to himself.

“I know, babe.” Mick whispered. He only used pet names like that when something was seriously wrong, and Mick felt this situation warranted it. “We’ll get our boy back. Let’s get some rest, and we’ll keep workin’ tomorrow. Fresh eyes an’ all that…”

Len nodded slowly. He knew Mick would do anything to get Barry back to them. Len would too. He would personally sever Wells’ head if it meant that Barry could be with them again. But Mick was right. They wouldn’t get anywhere by staring themselves blind. Sleep would do them good, and some food would too. Then, they could get a new look at the problem in the morning, and hopefully have some new ideas and angles to work on. Maybe one of their contacts would call with new information. Probably not if Len thought about it, but he could hope.

“Okay.” he surrendered. “Let’s order in. I don’t…”

He didn’t want Mick to go out alone this late. If Wells jumped him, Mick would have no chance on his own. If Len was there, they might have some slight advantage in the fight. Thankfully, Mick nodded, without arguing about it.

“You go to bed.” Mick said, running his hand in a small circle over Lens chest. “Warm it up for me.”

Len had to smile. “Cold hearted guy like me?” he said. “Not possible.”

Mick let out a low chuckle into the crook of Lens neck. They stood like that for another few moments, just enjoying the feeling of being together. Even though Barry wasn’t there, they were happy they at least had each other. They reluctantly dragged themselves away from one another. Len headed for the bedroom, as Mick grabbed the phone Len had left on the desk.

The bedroom, and the whole apartment really, was big and airy, and contained only one piece of furniture: a king-size four-poster bed, that stood almost centered in the room, aligned perfectly so whomever lay in it could watch the sunrise through the wall of windows. It was one of many reasons Len adored this particular safe house. Plus, he had many fond memories here; there was that time they had spent nearly a whole week in that bed, only leaving it for the bathroom or to get the food that was delivered to their door. They would have to repeat that after handling this Wells-situation. He and Mick would take Barry away from all this, just like they had said back when Barry had been undercover with them and this whole thing got started. Back when things weren’t so fucking complicated.

He stripped out of his clothes, leaving a trail of them from the door to the bed. He crawled in under the covers and let out a sigh. Len hadn’t realized how tired he was. They had spent the whole day staring at that damn wall, at pictures of Wells’ smirking face. All the energy had been sucked out of Lens body by that mans disgusting smirk. Len wouldn’t be surprised if he had already passed out when Mick came in with their food. Uch, thinking about food made Lens stomach rumble. He had barely eaten all day either. They had sustained themselves with beer and whatever snacks they had left in the kitchen the last time they had stayed at the apartment. Maybe he _should_ stay awake until they got their food, Len could stand to get some real foo-

“Len!” Mick shouted suddenly.

Len sat up like a shot, ears piqued and heart starting to race.

“Get out here! Len! It’s Barry!”

_Oh, no…_

No, no, no, no, please, no. Len jumped out of bed. He prayed to God that Barry was okay, that Wells hadn’t hurt him. They couldn’t live with themselves if Barry had gotten hurt and they hadn’t been there to watch his back. Len sprinted through the apartment, stumbling to a stop next to Mick in the living room. The arsonist just pointed at the TV as he turned up the volume.

 _“Our top story tonight is of course the accident on freeway 76, which involved six cars and the Black Flash.”_ the news anchor said, a picture of the speedster over her shoulder.

Len knew that picture. It had been grabbed by a security camera some months ago during one of their heists, then it had floated around on the news for a while after every heist that came next. It was a bit blurry, but it was clearly Barry; the head of dark hair, cigarette in the corner of his mouth, the black jacket hanging open to show the t-shirt that bore the Captain Cold logo someone had made up and distributed. Len nearly smiled at the thought. As soon as they hit the shelves, Barry had stocked up; he had a million of the damn things, _the Heat Wave fireball, the Captain Cold snowflake, the Black Flash bolt of lightning,_ and he wore them with pride.

 _“At around ten AM this morning, the front left tire of a car blew out while it was heading south out of the city on freeway 76, causing the driver to swerve. Another car then crashed into the first, and another four followed after.”_ the anchor explained with a stern voice. _“All hope for the passenger was thought to be lost as fire quickly spread. Luckily, the Black Flash was on the scene just minutes after the initial crash. The Black Flash, whom we also know as Barry Allen, proceeded to aid the rescue crews and pull a total of seven people out of the wreckage, including five-year old Benjamin Ortiz.”_

Lens heart was pounding so fast. Barry was a hero. He did it. He was the hero Wells wanted.

_“Tragedy then stuck again.”_

Oh, God. Oh, no. Barry was hurt. He must be. There was no way around it now. An accident like the one the anchor had described? Not even Barry could have gotten out of that unscathed.

_“We now warn sensitive viewers, as the following images may be disturbing.”_

The screen seemed to flicker for a moment as the feed from a helicopter filled it.

_Wrecked cars smashed into one another in the middle of the highway. Traffic had been pushed back and barred off, people flocking to see what was going on. There was already black smoke rising from several of the crashed cars. The camera shook as it zoomed in on one of them, on Barry who was beside it._

_He seemed to be talking with someone. He had to be since he wasn’t moving, crouched and leaning into the red car. The reporter in the helicopter was commentating over the video._

Lens heart had never raced this fast before _._

_Barry moved, he took off his jacket, and a moment later, a small boy crawled out of the car and into the speedsters arms. He wrapped the boy, Benjamin Ortiz, in the jacket, holding him close to his chest._

Mick gasped quietly as the explosion filled the screen. Lens eyes went wet with tears, hands covering his mouth to keep from screaming.

_The camera lost sight of Barry in the flames and the smoke. The reporter was shouting panicked commentary at the viewers. For seconds that felt like hours, the camera searched fervently for Barry, for any sign of him._

_“There he is!” the reporter shouted suddenly, the camera reeling to catch up. “There!”_

_The image centered on Barry. He lay on the concrete, tracks of blood leading away from him and back to the cars. He must have been thrown, injured and bled as he moved away. It sounded as if the reporter dry heaved when Barry rolled over onto his side, revealing his back to the camera._

“Oh my God...” Len whispered.

“Jesus…” Mick concurred softly.

_Barrys back was red; there was barely any skin that they could see, the bone and muscle all out there for the world to see. It was a miracle he was even conscious with an injury like that. The blood was just pouring out of him and staining the asphalt red. It was a deeply sickening sight, only in the sense that seeing a mans insides come to be on his outside…was not something anyone particularly wanted. Still Barry got to his feet, walking as if there was nothing wrong in the world until he could hand the bundle of Benjamin over to the EMTs._

“Get the car!” Len ordered in a broken shout as Barry collapsed.

Mick didn’t hesitate for a second. He threw the remote aside and ran for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sweeties! I know it's been a little while, it's because I've been having trouble getting writing done. It's a little slow these days, and I don't really know why. I'm in the middle of a pretty emotional/action packed chapter that's almost finished, you'll get to see that soon so look forward to it! I think you'll love that one a lot!  
> As always, tell me what you think! Your thoughts and opinions really do matter a lot to me. Reading them always brightens my day and it makes the work really feel worth it, y'know? <3


	16. Don't You Lift Him, Let Him Drown Alive

_Title from: Bottom of the River, by Delta Rae_

 

Public opinion on Barry was already changing. After the people saw how he ‘sacrificed’ himself for that kid Benji, they were starting to question whether he really was as bad as they had all thought. Of course, just a day after the incident, the people were already split into new factions. Many were guarded, but optimistic. Others worshiped the ground beneath his feet, thinking he could no longer be capable of any wrong doings. Most still hated him, though, and said that one good deed didn’t make up for all he had done.

Barry had no say in the matter since he was still laid up back at the Lab. He had apparently fractured a few vertebrae and practically shattered his left shoulder blade after taking a fall like that unprotected. Most of the skin and musculature had grown back at least; there were no longer chills running through his bones at the slightest gust of air. Thankfully, though, he had been sedated throughout most of the healing process. Caitlin pumped him full of drugs and Barry never said no to free drugs. Pictures of his mauled back were circulating in the media and on the internet, probably surreptitiously taken by some nose journalist while the EMTs were trying to figure out what the hell to do with the speedsters unconscious body. Barry supposed it contributed to people changing their minds about him; as in, _if he was willing to get himself hurt that bad to protect a child, he couldn’t possibly be too horrible of a person_. Barry had to say, he kind of agreed? He hadn’t exactly planned on getting hurt, but in hindsight, he found himself thinking it was worth it if he saved the kid.

The speedster was getting restless, though. On Caitlin’s stern orders, he was still laying in the hospital bed he had woken up in after the sedation wore off. He was glad that they had gotten him back to the Lab. He was pretty sure people would have been flocking to the hospital if they had left him there. Not only would that have gotten on his nerves, but it would probably have been a massive inconvenience for the staff too.

Barry almost got up when he heard his phone ring in the pocket of his jacket. Caitlin was there to stop him though, tutting at him like he was a disobedient child. He was a little glad she was stopping him. His back was nearly fully healed but the scraped still left hurt like all hell. Caitlin fished the phone out of his jacket, handing it over quickly. Barry lay his head on its side so he could hold the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Len.” he said without even having to look at the caller ID.

With the media being its usual vague self, Mick and Len must have been worried sick about him. They had probably only seen the pictures of his back, and the video of him being rushed off in an ambulance. Since that, it had been quiet about his condition.

“Barry! Barry, oh, my God, are you okay?” Len asked rapidly. “We’re in the car, and we’re heading to the Lab! We’ll be there in six minutes!”

“No!” Barry responded just as quickly. “No, don’t come here!”

“Barry, are you insane?! Of course we’re coming over!” Len said sharply. “We’re on our way. Five minutes, fifty-one seconds.”

“He’ll kill you if he finds out.” Barry said softly.

Len wanted to argue with that. He and Mick wanted, _needed_ to be there with him because _fuck_ , he had just been hurt bad enough to kill any normal human! God, they wanted to see him. They wanted to hold him and make sure he was okay and just sleep next to him again! But they couldn’t. They couldn’t even be seen on the same city block in fear of Wells coming after them for it. Len really wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. He knew Barry was right. They both knew it, and they both hated it. All three of them, really. They all hated how Wells had, without much bother for himself, taken control over Barry’s life. How he had tied new strings on the speedster and was now putting on the puppet show of a life time.

“Just…stay away.” Barry said, his voice close to a whisper then. “Where are you? Where’re you staying?”

Len let out a heavy breath. Barry heard a short mumble, probably Len telling Mick to turn the car back around.

“The apartment on North Street.” Len said.

“Go back and stay there.” Barry said. “I’ll do a few laps around the city then…I’ll see if maybe I can come by for a while.”

“Okay.” the other man said flatly. “I love you, Barry.”

Barry had to smile to himself. Hearing either of them say those words to him made it impossible for him not to smile.

“I love you too.” he responded. “So incredibly much.”

There came a low rustling, the phone changing hands.

“Barry.”

His heart stuttered at the sound of Micks voice. Barry missed it, missed hearing Mick saying his name.

“Mick. I love you.” Barry promised. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, kid.” Mick said, and Barry could swear he _heard_ the small smile the arsonist had on his face.

“I’ll see you tonight, maybe.”

“We _will_ see each other tonight.” Mick swore. “Ain’t a thing in the world could stop me. Not even this Wells bastard.”

*

Mick nearly threw the phone out the window.

This was the hardest thing they had ever experienced, he was sure. They couldn’t even _look_ at the person they loved. Don’t get him wrong, Mick loved Len just as much as he loved Barry, and Len loved Mick just as much as he loved Barry. But…Mick and Len were very different people. Without Barry to fill in the blanks, smooth over the sharp edges, they didn’t work the same way. If they were working, it was easy to set their differences aside and focus on the task at hand. If they were just…two people in a relationship, there was more conflict than agreement. They could scream and shout and argue and nearly come to blows, but Barry was the one who settled their fights.

Mick punched the steering wheel with an angry shout. Len looked about a second away from killing someone, just to get the aggression out.

They turned the car around and went back to the apartment. Len lay awake in bed the rest of the night. Mick downed half a bottle of vodka and passed out on the couch.

*

Barry couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t keep playing the hero. It wasn’t him. Not anymore. Before all this, before prison, before the coma, _before everything_ , maybe he would have been good enough to call a hero. If only he had had his powers back then, before everything got so screwed up. Before every line was blurred, before white and black became a world of gray. Back when he was still a good person. He had to, though. He couldn’t let Wells murder who knows how many innocent people just because Barry was sick of being good. This was all too much. Barry’s head was spinning. He wished he could just lay down and never get up again. Couldn’t this all be over? Couldn’t things just go back to how they were? Barry hoped Mick and Len had figured something out, some weakness they could exploit. He had to fight Wells, and he had to win. If he went into a fight and lost…there was no telling what Wells would do to _punish him for it._

The speedster couldn’t help but think back to the little chat they had some days ago. _His destiny?_ What was Wells even on about? What was Barry’s destiny supposed to be? Why would he go so far just to make Barry a hero? What possible reason could there be behind it? As was typical he supposed, there were so many questions and no answers in sight. And don’t think he had forgotten what Wells had said about Nora. It was one more reason to _loathe his very existence._ Barry hated him. He hated Wells more than he had ever hated anyone or anything in his life.

But if he was going to be a hero, he might as well try to get his innocent father out of prison.

It posed another question, though. Where the fuck was he supposed to find Wells?

Barry would assume that Wells would be laying low. The whole city was on the lookout for him. Every person in the city had the image of his face burned into their heads. A few sightings had been reported to the tip line. Luckily, Barry was now an ‘honorary’ member of the CCPD, so he had access to all the reports from the squad cars that had been sent to check out the tips. Most of them were located in the southwest of the city, down by the harbor. It made sense, really. The place was pretty dead these days; a lot of properties and warehouses had simply been abandoned when companies went bankrupt during the credit crunch. It would be a pretty ideal place to hide out.

He snagged one of the tape recorders Caitlin used for dictating her charts, then headed out. His back still stung now and then when he ran. The skin was stretching and molding to fit over his body as it moved. The feeling of his t-shirt and jacket rubbing over the sensitive skin was uncomfortable. Barry had half a mind to toss them both aside and go into this shirtless. He didn’t though. If Wells took Barry’s approach as a threat, he may choose to act out and attack to put Barry back into his place. If that happened, Barry would gladly take the slight discomfort now if it gave him extra protection later.

Wells wouldn’t give up the information Barry wanted without a decent fight, so in all honesty, Barry would probably need all the protection he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry makes my heart hurt. I love him so much.  
> As you can probably guess, there's a Big Chapter coming soon! Let me know what you think, and how much you hate me for my cliffhangers ;D  
> <3


	17. You Have No Choice, You Have to Choose

_Title from: Something from Nothing, by Foo Fighters_

 

A storm of dust filled the air as Barry skid to a stop just up from the docks. Barry had known Wells before, and if the man hadn’t been acting far too much, Barry would assume that he had the whole area rigged with surveillance and alarms. Hopefully, he would already know Barry was there. Barry shoved his hand into his pocket, starting the recording. He would do pretty much anything for that confession; take whatever beating Wells chose to dole out. Barry had already tried convincing Singh to release Henry, but the Captain argued that the, at best, flimsy ‘confession’ Wells had given on TV wasn’t enough. That they needed something more detailed, more concrete. Wells pretty much had to actually say _‘My name is Harrison Wells and I murdered Nora Allen’._

“What are you doing here, Barry?”

Barry whipped around, eyes landing on the man in the yellow suit that stood before him. He hadn’t even heard Wells coming. It was odd to see the older mans face, the yellow hood not obscuring it. To watch him walk around without trouble, to run just as fast as Barry _and faster even._ He had the same face as the man who had mentored Barry what felt like a million years ago, but somehow…he looked nothing like him.

“We need to talk.” Barry said, after swallowing down the slight twinge of fear that filled him.

Wells looked about a second away from rolling his eyes. “Close your eyes.” he ordered instead.

Barry, though not keen on following that particular order, did as he was told. For a moment, nothing happened. Barry was near to opening his eyes to mouth off at Wells for it, then a set of arms wrapped around Barry’s upper body and hooked under his arms. Wells ran him around the warehouses, scrambling Barry’s sense of direction, before Barry was tossed forward; Wells had simply stopped abruptly and let go of the young speedster, throwing him onto the concrete slab that constituted the floor in the warehouse he had been taken to.

 _“What?_ ” Wells asked flatly.

He moved slowly around Barry’s groaning body, watching him with quite some disdain. Barry stumbled as he tried to get to his feet again. The wind had been knocked out of him and his back ached from where he had hit the ground. He supposed it could have been worse if he had indeed discarded both jacket and shirt.

“Wells. Thawne, whatever _the hell_ your name is,” Barry spat as he finally regained his balance. “-I can’t do this.”

Wells looked exasperated at Barry’s incessant need to fight back.

“Yes.” he said nonetheless. “You can.”

“No, I can’t!” Barry shouted at him, spit flying as he roared. “I’m not a hero! I’m a criminal! And a good one! And I like it! I like who I am! _I like being a criminal!”_ he continued. “I don’t know who you think I am, but it’s _not_ a hero!”

Wells just… _sighed_ at him. “Barry. You are a hero. You _saved_ those people.” he reminded, reaching his hand out in a vague gesture as if to point back to the city. “You put that boys life ahead of your own well-being!”

Barry couldn’t help but scoff at him “Yeah, ‘cause _you,”_ he reminded right back, pointing at the second speedster. “-would _kill people_ if I didn’t!”

The older man sighed again. “Barry, you’re _the Flash_! A superhero! Your purpose is to help people. You spread joy.” he said, as if that would explain it all.

 _“Spread joy?_ ” Barry repeated, then gestured to...all of himself. “How the hell am I supposed to _spread joy?_ I’m the Black Flash! _I’m a villain_!” he yelled. “People tremble at the mention of my name!”

Wells chuckled. He actually _chuckled._ He had the _nerve_ to laugh at Barry. He wanted to _tear_ Wells’ head off. He wanted to pluck his heart out, if there was one.

“You’re a smart kid.” Wells said, smiling as he did. “You’ll figure it out.”

The man turned around and headed for the door, moving at a human speed for once. Barry couldn’t let him go. Not only did he want to get his point across, make Wells understand that Barry wasn’t the hero he wanted, but he still needed to get that confession too.

“You know what?” Barry said, raising his voice to make sure Wells heard him. “ _No._ ”

Wells froze.

“What did you say?” he asked, turning back around slowly.

He had a vicious look in his eye. He obviously wasn’t used to being told no, nor did he seem like a big fan of the concept.

 _“I. Said. Fuck. You.”_ Barry all but shouted, over-enunciating the words and forcing his anger into every syllable.

Barry heard the crack of lighting, saw the red flash before his eyes, a split-second before he felt Wells’ fist make contact with his face. The force of the punch threw Barry clear across the room. The whole building seemed to rattle as Barry hit the wall. He could almost feel the concussion hitting him as he fell back to the floor. Another burst of red lightning split the air. Wells got a grip on a handful of Barry’s hair then tossed him, _like he was nothing more than a fucking rag-doll,_  back across the room again. Barry both heard and felt his left wrist snapping under him, as he landed on his hand and rolled through the dust and dirt. A pained scream was ripped from his chest. Tears wet his eyes, he hugged his injured arm to his chest as if that would ease the pain.

“You’re a hero.” Wells said, leaning over Barry and looking down at him like he was trash. “Say it. Say _‘I’m a hero’_.”

A weak breath entered his body, but Barry determinately shook his head. Wells growled angrily, roaring like a lion as he landed a sharp kick to Barry’s side. Barry grunted in pain, being thrown over onto his other side.

“Say it!” Wells ordered.

 _“Fuck you.”_ Barry spat at the man over his shoulder. _  
_

“Say it!” Wells shouted again, landing a second kick but to Barry’s back this time.

The pain from it and from his old injuries made Barry scream again. The force from the kick threw Barry onto his chest and he cried again as he landed on his broken wrist. Barry coughed wetly, the pain in his chest exploding like fireworks, and tasted blood. Wells grabbed him by the jacket. He was dragged up to his feet, the blood spilling from his lips and dripping down his chin. It was as if he was standing at the center of a tornado when the lightning swirled around him. He cried and screamed in pain when Wells hit him again and again; the punches landing all over his body faster than he could comprehend. Bones snapping, blood vessels rupturing, muscles feeling as if they were being torn apart cell by cell, Barry could feel it all at once. He would have toppled over the moment it all stopped if it wasn’t for the iron grip Wells had on his jacket again.

“Say it!” Wells screamed at him.

“Never.” Barry hissed, spots of blood landing on Wells’ face.

He would have screamed when Wells let him go, but all this pain in his body…all that came out was a soft whine when he landed hard on his knees.

“Come on, Barry. Just say it.” Wells said.

He had switched tactics it seemed. His voice was softer. If Barry hadn’t known the man, he would have called the tone kind. Wells crouched next to Barry, watching the battered and bruised boy try to get his grasp on reality back.

“Say it, and stay true to your word, then we won’t have a problem anymore.” Wells continued with a shrug. “I’ll even consider letting you hang around with that… _trash_ you claim to care about. What were their names again?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer. “Oh, yes, _Mick and Len_.”

Barry wanted to yell at him the moment he said their names. He wanted so badly to curse his name and all who shared it. But he could hardly breathe. Every breath was like a thousand stabs in the chest. Every move was like fire. The blood practically poured from his mouth, caking in the dirt.

“Fuck you,” he spat at Wells. “-you psycho piece of shit!”

Wells sighed. “You are testing my patience, Barry.” he said sharply.

Barry groaned at the pain, blinking rapidly as if that would clear his head. “Fuck your patience! I am not your slave!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The old speedster chuckled again, at a joke that Barry hadn’t been let in on. _Fuck!_ Barry wished so hard that he was faster, stronger! Fast enough to fight Wells, strong enough to just… _fight back._

“That’s where you’re wrong, Barry.” the man in yellow hummed. “I am more powerful than you think. Like I said. Trying to fight me is just a waste of time, for both of us.” he repeated as he rose to his full height again.

He took a few steps away, and Barry was relieved. Some of the pain was beginning to settle already. His body was working on fixing him up again, healing what Wells had broken. His wrist hurt like hell still. It wouldn’t be good for anything for another few hours, so he couldn’t fight back even if he had been strong enough. Barry had to stall. He had to stall for time, get Wells talking. Now was the best time he would probably ever get. For once Barry had something Wells wanted; he wanted those words to come out of Barrys mouth but Barry would fight them back for as long as it took, no matter how much Wells wailed on him. If he withheld them, maybe he could pressure some actual answers out of the old man.

“ _Fine_.” Barry said, nodding slowly. “I’ll say it.”

He looked up from the dirty floor. Barry spat a mouthful of blood and saliva to the side before fixing Wells with the most vicious glare he could manage in his state.

“I’ll say it, if you tell me why the fuck you want me to be a hero so bad. I mean, c’mon.” Barry huffed. “If it was just outta the goodness of your heart, you’d be the one out there playin’ hero. So why me, huh?”

Barry winced in pain as he let go of his injured wrist. With the help of his good hand, he stumbled to his feet once more.

“‘S gotta be a reason, right?” he asked. “You want me to say it?

Fuck, he was so out of breath. He could actually feel his broken ribs grinding against his lungs, threatening to puncture them both at the slightest wrong move. Barry took a breath as deep as he could.

“Well, you can beat on me all you like.” he hissed, hugging his aching wrist to his chest again. “I ain’t sayin’ another word ‘til you tell me why.”

Wells stared at him. He seemed almost surprised at Barry’s stubbornness. It was good. Barry had bought himself some time, if not to let his body heal what it could then to at least catch his breath. Wells turned away from him. Barry could only imagine what was going through his head; he was no doubt weighing his options, calculating possibilities and outcomes at the speed of light.

“I went back in time.” Wells said.

He…

_He did what now?_

_He went back in time?_ That was…impossible. He had to be fucking with Barrys head.

“I ran so fast I made a rift in the time-space continuum,” Wells continued. “-and I was thrown back to that night. The night your mother died.”

Now he was getting somewhere interesting. Time travel? He had to be lying. But Wells was damn sure old enough to have been there when Nora died. To either have watched it happen, or to have done it himself. Even _if,_ and that was a big fucking _if_ , Wells wasn’t the one who had killed her, he wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t know anything.

“I killed her.” the speedster said as he turned to look at Barry. “I…I killed Nora.”

Barry knew it. He knew that had to be the case. That Wells had to be the one who had killed her. But this…hearing him actually say it, admit to it, confess to the crime Barrys father had been sentenced for? Barrys heart pounded in his chest, hammering almost painfully against his ribcage. It felt as if his poor heart was going to jump out of his mouth.

“What?” he said.

His voice was soft. He sounded like a frightened child.

“It was an accident.” Wells said.

He sounded damn near to feeling guilty about it.

“I was, _I am_ the man in the lightning.” he continued, stomping over to stand just a foot away from Barry.

Never in his life could Barry have imagined he would stand this close to his mothers killer. Looking him in the eyes without returning the favor and killing him on the spot.

“In my time, you’re a hero. In my time, you’ve time traveled on several occasions.” Wells continued insistently. “I hadn’t. The trip weakened me.” he then admitted. “I’m no longer fast enough to go back home on my own. That’s why I need you.”

What the hell was he talking about? He had to be fucking with Barry, mocking him. Barry, a time-traveling superhero? _Yeah, right!_ Len freezing him with the Cold Gun must have messed with his head. Put him out of whack or _something_. None of this sounded even remotely likely.

“I need you, to create a rift for me so I can go home.” Wells said, jabbing Barry in the chest with a sharp finger. “ _But_ , for you to reach that level of speed…you need to be a hero. That’s the only way.”

Okay, think fast! Wells was…obviously crazy, but if Barry resisted too much, he might act out. He might make good on all his threats. As crazy as Wells may or may not be, he had already proven he had no qualms about killing. So Barry had to play along, he supposed. There really wasn’t any other scenario he could think of where he would get out of this with everyone he cared about still intact and in one piece.

“There has to be another way!” Barry said. “There has to be!”

Play along. Play along with this… _this delusion!_

“I could train!” he suggested quickly, and Wells stepped back.

Barry wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

“I-I could do it!” he insisted. “If you just gave me some time, I cou-“

“ _No, you can’t_!” Wells burst out, shout at Barry in a cold, emotionless tone. “ _This_ , is the only way.”

“But why d’you even need to go?!” Barry questioned, mentally kicking himself for fighting against this delusion of Wells’. “You’ve been here for almost twenty years! Can’t you ju-”

“ _No!_ I can’t!” Wells interrupted, roaring at Barry like an angered lion. “I have to go home! There are people waiting for me to come back.” he continued, his voice softening as he did. “People who depend on me.”

For a moment, he seemed…genuinely vulnerable.

“Oh, fuck you!” Barry groaned. “Fucking suck it up and drink your fucking feelings like a normal goddamn person! So you’re stuck here! Big fucking deal!” he shouted.

He was tossed back again when Wells fist landed across his face.

 _“It is a big deal!”_ Wells shouted as Barry tumbled through the dirt.

Barrys head kept spinning long after he stopped rolling, while he just lay in the dust and stared up at the rusting ceiling. There was even more blood pouring from his face then. His nose was broken, or at least badly cracked; he could actually _see_ how crooked it was.

“Y’know,” he managed between wet and heavy breaths. “-if you’d’ve just asked me…”

Wells was suddenly there again, standing over Barry and looking down at him as if he was nothing more than another piece of dirt on the floor.

“What?” the older man asked,

Barry took a breath as deep as he could, the pain radiating through his chest. “A year ago! When this whole shitfest got started! When I woke up!” he said, stopping for a moment to take a few breaths. “If you’d’ve just fuckin’…asked me to help, I probably would’ve.”

Wells watched with only slightly widened eyes as Barry forced himself to roll over on his side. Barry used his good hand again. He got himself as far as onto his knees. He looked up at Wells, the blood now staining the white S.T.A.R Labs t-shirt Caitlin had given him to wear after waking up.

“But no.” he continued softly for a moment, before shouting again, “No, you just had to go and be the world’s _biggest_ pissbaby! I could’ve helped you! I could probably have gotten you home months ago!”

“Instead, you go and murder the man I’ve loved like a father ever since _you_ murdered my mother!” Barry screamed at the top of his lungs.

The older speedster seemed more and more shocked at Barrys attempts at defiance. Barry didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about anything. Wells would kill him anyway as soon as he got his will. There was no option where Barry didn’t die, where he wasn’t torn limb from limb by this _psycho_. So why the hell should he do what Wells said? Barry was a dead man walking either way.

“So y’know what?” Barry asked, spitting blood as he spoke. “Fuck you. _Fuck you, fuck the continuum, and fuck the future._ ”

He managed to push himself to feet again. He stood eye to eye with Wells, covered in blood and filled with pain.

“I’m done. I quit.” Barry said at last. “Get your sad ass home on your own.”

Barrys heart sped up as he started walking towards the exit. He couldn’t believe it when Wells didn’t stop him. His body hurt too much to run but even if he did, Wells was faster than him. Wells could drag him back whenever he so pleased. Barry just had to put some distance between them; he would catch his breath then run back to S.T.A.R Labs as fast as he could. Hopefully, with so many cops around Wells wouldn’t try to grab him. God, the door was right _there_ , wide open and probably stuck in that position due to all the rust that stained the metal. He just had to make it there, just a little further. He clutched his broken wrist to his chest, his breaths slow and wheezing, he limped slightly from the ache in his back and the bruises that had no doubt already turned his body blue.

He was only halfway there when red lightning filled the air again.

_No more…please._

Wells grabbed him by the back of his jacket, literally dragging him along. They seemed to run all around the docks; the warehouses passing by in a blur. Wells wanted to disorient him again, mix his head around until he didn’t know which way was up. Barry groaned as Wells stopped and he was jerked out of super speed. Wells’ hand was around his throat again, squeezing so tight that Barry could _feel_ how his windpipe was buckling under the pressure.

_Ground! Where was the ground? Nothing under his feet. Empty, empty, empty space under his feet and only the grip around his throat to keep him upright! What was this? What was happening? Ground?! Where was it?!_

“Barry. I am incredibly generous.” Wells said, making Barry focus his eyes on him.

He was standing on a walkway, the guardrail between him and Barry. _Fuck!_ He had Barry hanging over the side, one floor or maybe more above ground. Barry grabbed at Wells’ wrist with both hands, the pain was like fire but he couldn’t let go.

“Say those three little words, and do it with _conviction_ ,” Wells ordered. “-or I’ll go find your sister.”

_Not Iris. Not Iris too. Not now, when he was so close to having her in his life again. Not ever. Please._

“Don’t…” he choked out, the blood making his voice wet and tears blurring his vision. “Iris.”

As if it had never been there in the first place, Wells’ hand disappeared from around Barrys throat. Barry was so turn around, so jumbled up in the head that he had no time to react. He couldn’t catch the guardrail; he couldn’t do anything but fall. It seemed to last forever, as if time had slowed. Maybe it had, Barry honestly wasn’t sure. Falling like that was…liberating in a way. For those moments, the air seemed to flow into his lungs unhindered and there was nothing inside him that hurt. He almost wished it could have lasted longer.

His spine groaned inside him when he hit the concrete. The newly healed vertebrae screamed pain at him. Barrys head felt like it had been slit open, and he wasn’t sure it hadn’t. Looking up at Wells, who still stood on the walkway above him, the drop must have been two floor. Three at most, Barrys sense of depth perception was a little out of focus from that scrambling his head got and deciding how far he fell wasn’t really the biggest issue at the moment. The blood was no doubt filling his lungs, and flooding into his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if he passed out soon. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if it killed him. Wow, this was a pretty nice time for contemplation; he couldn’t move, he probably couldn’t really talk either, nor could he hardly breathe. There wasn’t really much to do other than think for a while, and watch Wells move down from the walkway at a human speed.

 _“Iris_.” Wells repeated as he moved towards the ladder down to the ground floor. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Wells slid down the ladder. Barry watched him as best he could; he didn’t want to turn his head too much, in case it worsened the damage to his spine.

“I wonder how many people have heard her name by now.” the old man continued, sauntering over to where Barry lay, no doubt in a pool of his own blood. “In the news and all that, after Joes… _passing_.”

Barry groaned at that. _Fuck! How dare he say Joes name?_ After all this, after what he did, he had no right to even _think_ Joes name. Wells kneeled over Barry for the millionth time it felt like. Oh, Barry wanted to spit in his face. Rip his head from his shoulders, tear his insides out, pay back all the pain and suffering he had put Barry through.

“I’m guessing it’ll be quite a few more when I gut her like a pig on live TV,” Wells said flatly with a dead stare in his eyes. “-then decorate the city with her innards.”

Barry tried to move. Just trying to lift his arms made him want to scream in pain.

“No…please.” he begged, the blood gurgling in his throat. “No.”

No matter how much he hated begging Wells for mercy, he had no choice. He couldn’t let him take Iris too. He couldn’t. Barry had already let Joe die, he wouldn’t fail Iris in the same way.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Wells continued, now with a smile that looked so wrong on his face. He patted Barry on the chest as if to tell him how ridiculous he was being. “I’ll make sure everyone knows you could have stopped it. That _you,_ could have saved your dear, beloved sister. _But you didn’t._ You _chose_ not to.”

 _“No!”_ Barry said, his hand gripping Wells wrist again despite the pain that flashed up his arm from the broken wrist. “No. Please. Please, not Iris…” he begged, but had to stop when the blood made his cough and choke. “Not Iris. Please…I-I’ll do anything”

 _“Good.”_ Wells said, smiling still. “Say it.”

He didn’t want this. Barry had never wanted this. He never asked for these powers, he never asked to be a hero, he never asked for any of this. But here he was. Here he was, a villain playing at being a hero on the whims of a psychotic time traveler who was holding the world hostage. And no, it wasn’t a dream. He had pinched himself enough times for this to most assuredly not to be a dream. How he wished it was though. He wished it was all a horrible nightmare that he could wake up from, that he would open his eyes and find himself laying in his bed back before Joe and Singh even asked him to go undercover. Yes, he would lose Mick and Len and his powers, but Joe would be alive and Wells would be a normal human without these delusions. Maybe that was a fair trade. Barrys happiness for Joes life? The more he thought about it, the easier that decision seemed; of course he would choose Joe.

“I…I’m a hero.” Barry forced out, nauseous from the words.

“I believe you, Barry.” Wells hummed, patting his chest again.

In another crack of red lightning, Wells was gone and Barry was left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have...an incredible number of emotions about this.  
> Tell me what you think... <3


	18. You Never Know the Top ‘til You Get Too Low

_Title from: I’m So Sorry, by Imagine Dragons_

 

 _Okay, so admittedly, maybe antagonizing Wells hadn’t been the best idea he had ever had,_ Barry pondered as he lay in a small pool of blood.

Barry hecked up, he acknowledged that.

Right now though, _how many hours after the fight?,_ all he could really think about was whether or not his recording was okay. He had been tossed around pretty badly and it wasn’t as if the device was built to take a beating. It was in his left jacket pocket. At the moment, his left hand still wasn’t good for much so he couldn’t exactly check on it. He supposed his body had focused its resources on the more serious injuries; a no doubt substantial number of damaged vertebrae, broken left femur, dislocated right knee, his pelvis was probably cracked in a few places, his skull was, if not broken open, badly cracked. Of course, that was all guesses based on the amounts of pain radiating through him as he attempted to move.

 _Anyway,_ he couldn’t just lie there all night. He had to get back to the Lab, and maybe ask Cisco to check out the recording. Maybe he could salvage something helpful from it. Fuck, Caitlin was going to murder Barry for getting himself even more hurt. If he made it out alive, Barry was going to go back ‘home’, get high, and pass out for a bit. Yup, solid plan.

With his good hand, Barry got himself up into a sitting position. As was perhaps a norm by then, his back hurt like all hell. Still, it could hardly be compared to the pain he felt when he began to feel over his dislocated knee. He grabbed himself by the leather of his pants, tugging his leg into a more normal position. After a moment of searching, he found his kneecap. Then, with a short shout, he popped it back into place. A few minutes passed where Barry simply sat there and breathed, but the pain passed as his body repaired the broken parts of his knee. Now he just had to run on a cracked pelvis and a broken femur.  _Marvelous._

He had to get moving soon. If he didn’t, his body would start healing the major injuries. That might sound like a good thing, but if he didn’t get his femur set properly it might bring with it some bad complications; chronic pains, might be too weak for him to move properly, he might not be able to run on it again. If that happened, it would have to be re-broken just to be set and healed right. Since he wasn’t particularly keen on voluntarily getting his femur smashed to pieces, it was better to get off his ass sooner rather than later. _And don’t even get him started on his spine, pelvis, and wrist!_ Again, re-broken and re-healed. Plus, it was a massive waste of time; time where he could be out playing hero to keep Wells happy.

Barry looked around. There had to be something around the place that he could use as a crutch, something to keep the stress off that femur of his. _There!_ He spotted a rusted piece of rebar near the door. It was about six, maybe seven feet tall, leaned against the wall. He just had to get to it. Barry rolled over onto his belly. He was _not_ about to try to get up and walk _without_ a crutch. That would just fuck him up even worse. Though his wrist stabbed pain through him, Barry used his hands and arms to drag and claw himself through the dirt, eyes set firmly on his target. It had to be twenty feet, but with every move he got just a little bit closer.

“Stupid Barry Allen…” he muttered to himself, through the mouthful of blood, as he crawled. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ _Barry_. You just _had_ to poke the goddamn bear, just _had_ to make him angry.”

He exhaled heavily as he finally reached the wall, talking a moment to catch his breath. Once he could actually take a breath without feeling like Death itself was dragging him into Hell, Barry reached as far up the wall as he could. He found a small hole in the metal, it had rusted all the way through, and fixed his good hand there. With its help, he could pull himself up. He got onto his good knee, though his femur burned as he put weight on it. He pulled himself up again and planted his right foot on the ground. _Almost there._ The newly healed knee ached as he stood up on the leg. His spine and-…well, his entire body ached as well, not pleased at him for getting up.

Barry grabbed the rebar and limped out of the warehouse. He just had to get out to the street. There, he could probably find someone to borrow a phone from since he had been a big dumb dummy and left his own back at the Lab to avoid Cisco’s tracking. Caitlin may or may not have told Barry to stay put until the healing was done, threatened to sedate him if he moved. He highly doubted she would have just forgotten all about that threat upon coming back to check on him and finding him to be gone. So no phone, therefore no 911 call to Cisco, therefore no one coming to pick him up any time soon. On the bright side, at least he had some clear objectives; get a phone, call Cisco, pass out in the van, get fixed up, go home, get high, pass out again. Good plan. Good, solid plan.

But of course, Wells was a shitbag to end all shitbags, and Barry was now on the completely opposite end of the harbor from the road. Meaning he would have to limp for a few miles to get to the road, then another mile or so before he would find any people.

“Perfect.” he muttered again, clutching his rebar for dear life as he stumbled on. “Just perfect. _Gee, thanks,_ Wells, ya assbag and a half.”

What did that even mean? Barry honestly wasn’t sure. He was getting all kinds of loopy. The world was a little…spinny, twirling in and out of focus. Probably blood loss. Shock and blood loss. Head trauma, shock, and blood loss. Oh, great! Yeah, wow, just what he wanted for Christmas…wait, no, Christmas? What was he talking about? Right, head trauma.

 _What was that noise?!_ He wasn’t imagining that, right? It was real. It had to be. It sounded like…something metallic falling over and hitting the ground. Someone was there. Wells? A civilian with a grudge coming after him when he was weak? A Meta displeased with his recent realignment of allegiances? Whoever, whatever it was, Barry was in no state to fight anyone or anything.

“Who’s there?!” he shouted.

He hopped slightly on his less bad leg and raised his rebar as a weapon.

“I’m armed!” he added. “Come out and I’ll go easy on ya!”

Maybe if he played it with confidence, the possible assailant would be scared away. Barry hoped they were scared away.

“Okay!” a woman called back from around the corner of the closest warehouse, from where the noise had also come. “I’m not armed! I’m not here to hurt anyone! I’m a reporter, I’m chasing a story!”

Wait…Barry knew that voice. Maybe it was the head trauma, shock, and blood loss talking, but Barry definitively recognized that voice.

“Just c’mon out!” he ordered with as much confidence as he could muster while balancing on one leg.  “Hands up!”

“Okay! I’m coming out!” the woman responded.

Barrys heart raced. It felt like he knew a million different women, and this one could by anyone of them He waited with bated breath. For a moment he saw only a dark figure come out from behind the corner. It could be anyone, anyone at all. The lights around the harbor were still up and running, thank God; the woman was revealed as she stepped into the flickering yellow light of a bulb on its last leg.

“Iris?” Barry said, more than surprised to see her there.

“Barry!” she responded.

She ran to meet him as he got the rebar down to support himself again. Iris caught on quickly, and came to his other side. She didn’t hesitate for a single second before wrapping her arm around his waist to carry some of his weight.

“You look like crap!” she said. “What the hell happened?!”

Barry groaned when she pressed too hard on his back. “I had to talk to Wells.” he explained as they stumbled forward.

They moved slowly, yet slightly faster than Barry had on his own. It was a little easier with Iris taking the stress off his femur. His every cell was throbbing. His mind was begging him to just give up and clock out, but he…he honestly didn’t want to put Iris through that. Forcing her to watch another person she cared about just fall over dead was not on Barrys To-Do list.

“Why the hell were you talking to Wells?” Iris asked, grunting in effort from nearly carrying her brother.

Barry wheezed as he inhaled. “Tried…tried to get a confession.” he said as quickly as he could.

He didn’t want to waste effort and energy on speaking too much. Everything he had at the moment was going into staying on his feet, staying awake.

“We can talk about it later.” Iris said. “Stop here.”

Though he wanted to keep moving, Barry knew he was dangerously close to passing out. Falling over would just do more damage so he nodded slowly. Iris helped him down to the ground.

“I’ll call Eddie. He’ll get an ambulance here, o-or something!” the woman said once Barry was safely sitting down.

He didn’t bother arguing with her on the matter. He couldn’t come up with an argument compelling enough to sway her, so why even bother? He had to get back to the Lab anyway. An ambulance would do him good. They would probably have enough morphine to last him the trip. Plus, if he died en route they would have all the necessary equipment to bring him back. Well, _hopefully_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back once again, and so is this fic!  
> I hope you're all still with me in this, despite my troubles and delays. I'm working so hard on getting chapters ready for you (on all of my works), and every time I post I am amazed at the wonderful response and love you all put in your kudos and comments.  
> Hope you like it! <3


	19. We’ll Fight Together Once Again, You’ll Never Be Alone

_Title from: Nothing Can Stop Me, by Ignite_

 

“Hey.”

Barry frowned to himself at how strange his voice sounded. The massive wads of cotton stuck up his nostrils and the medical tape keeping his nose in its proper place were not doing him any favors.

“Barry. Are you okay?” Len responded rapidly.

Barry winced as Caitlin pressed and squeezed on his previously dislocated knee. He knew she was just checking to make sure he had gotten it back in its rightful place, but _Jesus, it hurt._ He managed not to make a sound though.

“I’m…I’m fine. Still a bit sore.” he lied. “I…I can’t come by. Don’t think I’d be much fun.”

He attempted to smile, knowing how Len could hear it on him. The last thing he wanted right now was for Mick and Len to be even more worried about him. Sadly, they all had more important things to think about.

“Barry, we don’t want you to come over just for sex.” Len said earnestly.

He sounded so honest. More honest than anyone outside his immediate circle ever heard.

“We miss you.” he continued. “We just want to see you. Sleep next to you.”

Barry didn’t even have to force a chuckle; it came naturally at the thought.

“With the way Mick hugs me in his sleep?” he said, smiling widely. “I think it’d do more harm than good.”

Len hummed almost inaudibly. He was definitively not pleased with this development. Barry wasn’t either, but he could hardly. Even if he did make it to their hide-out, they would just get more worried about him. They would probably spend the whole night fussing over Barry. He relished in the thought of being so close to them both, but for now…being together was the last thing Barry needed, no matter how bad he wanted it.

“Okay.” Len conceded. “But come see us as soon as you’re better. We miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Barry said.

He strangled a noise as Caitlin moved on to his thigh, feeling over the broken bone.

“Look, I’m gonna try and get some sleep,” Barry continued, after mouthing curses at the doctor and she blatantly ignored him. “-but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure.” Len said flatly. “We love you, Barry.”

Barry had to smile again. “I love you too. Both of you.” he said. “Goodnight, Len.”

“Night, Barry.”

The speedster ended the call then tossed his phone over onto the stainless steel table that stood beside his bed.

 _“Jesus Christ, Caitlin!”_ he allowed himself to shout when the doctor conveniently hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“Serves you right, Barry.” she responded. “What were you thinking, Barry? _He could’ve killed you!”_

Barry scoffed, gripping the sheets. “But then he wouldn’t have his hero.” he said.

“You have eight broken ribs! Any one of them could’ve punctured your lungs!” Caitlin berated as she stepped back and removed her latex gloves. “You would’ve died and Wells couldn’t do a thing about it! Your skull is _millimeters_ away from being _completely_ broken open! Not to mention the damage done to your spine! It is a _miracle_ you are still walking, Barry!”

Barry exhaled deeply, head falling back on the pillow. He regretted that immediately, when it felt like he had been hit over the head with a bat.

“We’re doing another full body x-ray, _and_ an MRI, _and_ a CAT scan.” the doctor ordered. “We’ll splint your wrist and femur, and we need to perform some surgery on your pelvis and rib cage. Your spine too, depending on what the x-ray looks like.”

“Oh, c’mon, Cai-” Barry attempted to argue.

“You have _zero_ say in this matter,” Caitlin interrupted. “-so shut up and lie still!”

Barry sighed, but he didn’t say a word. She was right, and he knew it. One wrong move and he would have died out there. If he had landed wrong when Wells dropped him, his neck could have snapped and killed him instantly. His lungs could have been punctured, leaving him to drown in his own blood. His brains could have splattered over the concrete as he hit it. There was a million ways that fight could have ended with Barry dead. Honestly, he should probably be glad he got out with just the injuries he had, and not even more. He should probably also be glad he had built up quite the resistance to pain over the last year.

“Alright. Nurse, let’s put him under.” she ordered.

*

Barry felt like utter shit. Having looked at his x-rays, that wasn’t very surprising. The morphine helped, but not much. Caitlin had been moments away from literally tying him down to keep him from moving, but Barry had talked her out of it. She agreed with the one condition that an armed officer watch him at all times. He didn’t understand why, since he couldn’t move anyway, but Barry didn’t bother arguing with the doctor on it.

His wrist and hand had been put in a fixator, with thin metal rods going through his skin and into his bones to keep them in place as they healed. It was strung up high as well, to stabilize his entire forearm. He now also had several pieces of metal permanently grafted to his pelvis, and two more plates screwed into his femur. Caitlin and her team of surgeons on loan from the closest hospital had also reinforced his spine with a couple of titanium rods. So currently, Barry felt like he was more metal than man. Hey, maybe he and Tony Woodward would get along for once. Hm, no, Barry _seriously_ doubted _that_ would ever happen.

“Hey, Barry.”

The speedster opened his eyes, for a moment wondering when he had closed them, and forced a smile onto his lips when he saw Cisco standing just inside the door.

“Hey.” Barry responded with a raspy voice.

He still wasn’t 100% out of the sedation, and the morphine wasn’t helping in that regard. But Cisco smiled at him still. The engineer grabbed a stool, rolling up to sit by Barry’s side.

“So I checked out that recorder.” Cisco opened.

Oh, Barry didn’t like the look on the engineers face as he said that.

“How’s it looking?” Barry asked.

Cisco sighed softly. “Well, the recorder itself got totally trashed,” he began, further diminishing Barry’s hope. “-but I managed to get the audio files onto my computer. They look…bad. The files are partially corrupted, but I think I can salvage most of it.”

Barry nodded slowly. “And…?” he practically begged.

“I’m…optimistic.” Cisco said. “The computers are working on the files right now, so I thought I’d come and let you know. I’ll have to listen through it all, maybe clean out background noise and stuff when the computers are done.” he explained. “Barry, I’ll do everything I can. I promise.”

The smile ebbed back onto Barry’s face, and it felt more genuine this time. He held out his good hand to Cisco, who took it quickly.

“I know, man.” Barry said, shitty voice be damned. “Thank you. Really.”

Cisco smiled as well, and squeezed Barry’s hand gently. “Of course, dude.” he said. “I’ll go get back to it, man, okay? Can I get you something? You need anything?”

Barry’s smile widened. “Nah, I’m good. Think I’m just gonna sleep and…hope I feel less shitty tomorrow.” he said. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” Cisco said, squeezing the speedsters hand a last time before scurrying back to his lab.

Barry couldn’t stop smiling. What in the world did he do to deserve Cisco? And Caitlin, for that matter! All they ever did, since the moment Barry woke up from his coma, was give him everything they had. Barry wished he had been a better friend to them back then. That he had realized how blessed he had been, and was still, that these amazing people cared about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!  
> I'm sadly very busy in the real world, so posting has been, and will continue to be, kinda slow.  
> Still, here's another one! Hope you enjoy it! <3


	20. The Laws of Man Don’t Apply When Blood Gets in a Woman’s Eye

_Title from: Ten Cent Pistol, by The Black Keys_

 

Walking places was weird.

He hadn’t done it for real in so long. Flitting around at extreme speeds was just… _the norm_ now. Mick and Len had long since stopped being startled when he appeared right next to them out of nowhere. But now, they were not around and Barry was limping around on a pair of crutches. Eddie wasn’t exactly a fan of Barry so he had refused to spare a squad car to drive Barry home. Thankfully, the detective’s fiancé still had a soft spot for the speedster and didn’t hesitate to pick him up.

Barry felt pitiful as he limped out of the Lab. He had to support himself mostly on his right crutch since his wrist was still a little weak. Caitlin predicted it would heal before his femur and pelvis so hopefully he would be able to distribute his weight more evenly by tomorrow, or so. Not that he was planning on doing a lot of walking around. The plan was still firmly set on _get home, get high, pass out_ , even if it had now been delayed by a day.

Iris was already parked and waiting for him just by the exit as he came outside. Again thankfully, she didn’t get out of the car to help him. Really, nothing would have made him feel more useless. Barry got the backseat door open and shoved the crutches in, leaning against the side of the vehicle to get to the front. He sighed deeply as he dropped into the seat. Sitting was a pain and a relief. His pelvis hurt like hell, but the relief from his femur and his back seemed to somehow balance it out. Iris looked at him like he was a wounded puppy; like she wanted to swaddle him in a blanket and spoon-feed him and never let him out of bed again. Wait, no, that actually sounded quite nice…

“How are you?” she asked.

“Good.” he responded. “I think. Better, when I get to sleep for a bit.”

Iris smiled at him. “Sounds good.” she said. “So! Where am I going?”

Barry rattled off the address to a random safe house. He could put a call in to Doc and get him, or one of his underlings, to deliver a few doses of Warp.

“So…” Iris said after having driven for some minutes.

Oh, no, she wanted to actually _talk_ now too? Well, Barry supposed he should have expected that. They hadn’t spoken for nearly a year now, since that last time where he had called her an annoying cunt and she had punched him in the face for it. A lot had happened since then, and before then even. There would be a lot to talk about.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Good.” Barry repeated. “You? I guess you’re busy planning the wedding.”

Iris smiled widely. “Yeah. We were thinking about doing it in December.” she said. “A ceremony out in the snow, then coming in for hot cocoa.”

Barry had to smile at that too. It brought back some fond memories; playing in the snow in the backyard, then going inside and finding that Joe had prepared hot cocoa with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. Barry wished things were still that simple, that easy. He wished that all of this could be undone and they could be kids again, playing in the snow without a care in the world.

“That sounds nice.” he said lowly.

“Yeah.” Iris responded. “It’ll be…nice.”

So… _this was awkward_.

They hadn’t spoken in so long. Barry felt… _compelled_ to say something. About Joe, and everything else. So much had happened, and so much of it was Barry’s fault. He had to say something about it all. What would she think about him if he didn’t? Would she think he was a coward? Scared of her judgement, or of taking responsibility for his actions and their consequences. Barry _wanted_ to speak up. To open his mouth and just make words come out, but it felt like the right words just didn’t exist. But still, _he had to!_ He couldn’t _not_ say something.

“Look, Iris, about Joe-”

“Don’t.” she interrupted.

Barry looked at her in confusion. Iris had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and her jaw was set tightly. She took a deep breath.

“Dad…that wasn’t your fault.” she said.

Barry’s heart was pounding like a drum against his rib cage. It felt like it would burst out of his chest at any moment.

 _“That_ , was Wells’ fault. _He_ did it. _He_ killed dad.” Iris continued, with a strained voice.

Saying these things was obviously hard for her. Hell, it was hard for Barry to hear.

“Wells is…some _special_ kind of evil.” she said sharply. “All of this? It’s all on him. He was behind it all, right from the start. Your mother’s death, Henry going to prison, the particle accelerator exploding, you getting these powers, my dad’s death. Everything is on him, not you.” Iris spoke, momentarily taking her eyes off the road to look at Barry. “We will figure out how to beat him, Barry. Together. All of us.”

Barry could hardly breathe as he listened. Never in a million years could he have expected her to react like that. His insides were bubbling with joy! Caitlin and Cisco didn’t hate him; Iris didn’t hate him. Despite the circumstances, Barry felt…actually kind of good. He had honestly expected Iris to hate him, and he really wouldn’t have blamed her for it, but she didn’t. God, he was so glad for it. At the moment, Iris was the only family he had. Joe was…gone, Henry was still in prison (though hopefully not for much longer), and Mick and Len were forced to keep their distance.

But at least he had Iris. He had Iris, and Cisco, and Caitlin.

“Give me your hand.” Barry said, once Iris had parked in front of Barry’s temporary home.

She didn’t argue with him, and held out her hand to him. He pulled a pen from his pocket, grabbing her wrist and putting the pen to her skin.

“It’s for Mick and Len.” he said after finishing the number. “They’re trying to figure out some way to beat Wells. Maybe you can help.”

A small smile filled Iris’ face when she looked up at her brother. Barry had to smile back.

Things were going to work out for them all. Henry would be released, Barry would defeat Wells, Eddie and Iris would have the most beautiful wedding ever and Barry would walk her down the aisle if she wanted him to. Things were going to work out. They had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies!! I know, it's been a while, but I've been totally swamped and I just haven't had the time to work on my fics :( Sadly, it won't get much better any time soon either, since I'm gonna start on some part time college classes.  
> Still, I'll keep working whenever I get the time and post whenever new chapters get ready.  
> Anyway! Hope you like the chapter! Remember to tell me what you think in the comments! <3 <3 <3


	21. That Eureka Moment Hits You Like A Cop Car

_Title from: Cough Cough, by Eveything Everything_

 

“Any ideas?” Barry asked.

Mick sighed at the other end of the phone. “Nah, nothin’.” he said. “No clue how this asshole got his powers, why he’s sayin’ he murdered your ma, why he blew up the accelerator. We don’t know nothin’, Barr.”

Barry sighed as well. He scrubbed over his face with his free hand, the sheets rustling around him. This still didn’t make sense. Barry wanted to blow his fucking brains out just to end all this bullshit. To spite Wells and take away whatever it was he wanted from Barry. He wanted to, but he couldn’t, could he? If he did, Wells would just take it out on everyone else. He would kill Iris, Mick and Len, Caitlin and Cisco. He would tear the whole world apart in vengeance-

“I’m gonna have to fight him, aren’t I?” Barry asked softly.

“I…I don’t know, Barry.” Mick responded. “Your sister’s followin’ up on some leads. Talkin’ to people. Lookin’ into Wells’ history. She’s tryin’ to figure out when this whole thing got started.”

“I don’t wanna fight him, Mick.”

Mick exhaled heavily. “I know, Barr. I don’t want you fightin’ him either.” he agreed. “But if it comes to it, no one else can. We’ll be there, though, don’t you doubt it.”

“Yeah?” Barry asked, with a hesitant smile creeping onto his lips.

“Me and Len’ll be right there next to ya.” the arsonist promised. “Lisa too. Iris, Snow, Ramon. We got your back.”

Barry’s insides seemed to warm at those words. He had people on his side. Strength in numbers, right? Maybe with so many people back him, he could beat Wells. Maybe not in brute strength or raw speed, but their seven heads had to be better than his one. Barry might not be able to outrun Wells, but maybe they could outsmart him. They just had to come up with something; some idea that Wells wouldn’t immediately see through.

“Thanks, Mick.” Barry said. “I love you so much.”

The line crackled slightly as Mick chuckled. “Love you too, Barr.” he responded. “Len does too.”

“Tell him I love him too.” Barry said as he scrubbed over his face again. “I’ll let you get back to it. I got patrols anyway.”

“Okay. Call tomorrow?” Mick asked.

“Absolutely.” Barry said, smiling to himself once more.

God, he loved Mick and Len. It was amazing to him, how they were still standing by him despite it all. Despite his past, despite what they went through together, despite everything they were going through _now._ Despite all of that, they were still there. They still loved him.

Barry wanted this all to be over, he really did. But right now, he had patrols. He hadn’t patrolled for a few days now, to let his body heal up yet again. The process had been quicker than he had expected. Even Caitlin was a little surprised. Per her projections, it would have taken at least a few more days, if not a full week. And yet, there he was, able to run almost as well as usual. He was still taking it a little slow, but he was getting there.

He…he may have an idea of _why_ it was going so well so quickly. Just an idea, a theory, _a hypothesis._

During one of his deliveries, Doc had mentioned that Warp was as much a drug as morphine was; a medicine used for recreational purposes. The old dose of Warp was barely out of his system before he shot up a new one…so that had to be it, right? Maybe it didn’t just knock him out for a while, but actually _helped_ him heal. He would admit, it was absolutely a long shot, he wouldn’t argue that, but what if that was it? What if Warp was actually making his body heal faster? And what if-… _wait._

As if he was the star of a cartoon, a light bulb seemed to appear above his head as an idea popped into his thoughts. He needed to meet with Doc.

*

The dealer was hanging around his usual street corner. Lately, the cops had been too busy looking out for Wells to keep the drug business in check. Even before that, when Metas freely roamed the streets, they had been too preoccupied to give a shit about a pack of small time druggies.

“Flash!” Doc called as Barry skid to a stop just some feet away from him. “My main man! How’s it hangin’? Need another hit?”

Barry said nothing. He bit his tongue as he stomped over to the dealer, and grabbed him by his collar. He didn’t go far, only running up the block to a dark and quiet alley. Barry stopped again and Doc stumbled out of his grip. Wells may already know of Barry’s addiction, but if he heard about _this_ , he would put an end to it with quite some bloodshed, Barry would assume. If Barry’s hypotheses were correct, Doc may very well be the key to solving this whole puzzle. He couldn’t afford Doc dying. If he did, Barry was back at square one.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth!” Barry growled, imitating Mick to the best of his skills, as he grabbed Doc again.

With an iron grip on his jacket and a hand clamped down over his mouth, Barry held Doc back up against the brickwork.  Doc looked genuinely terrified of him. Barry supposed it had just fallen out of mind how powerful he was, how easily he could snap Doc like a twig if he so pleased.

“Tell me who cooks for you.” he hissed at the dealer.

He slowly moved his hand away to allow Doc to speak. The man was quivering in fear.

“Th-there’s a-a-a woman!” Doc said, stuttering and stammering in fear. “I-I-I tell her whi-which Meta wants what a-and she cooks it up! I-I d-don’t know nothin’, man! Don’t hurt me! Please! Oh, God, please, don’t hurt me!”

Barry jerked him forward and slammed him back again, making the man whine. By the looks of it, he was seconds away from pissing himself.

“Where is she?!” Barry shouted. “Where can I find her?!”

“Church! Church Street!” Doc responded with a frightened whine. “The Ra-Rathaway complex! She’s got a place there!”

“What’s the apartment number?” Barry asked, lowering his voice to a sharp hiss. “Her name.”

“3216! Bella! Bella Batonvert!”

The exact moment the name had left Docs lips Barry dropped him. He was gone before Doc hit the ground. Barry had no time at all to waste. If he was lucky, this Batonvert woman could help him end this misery. He could kill Wells, and set the whole world right again. Joe would still be gone…but everything else would be back to normal. Wells’ reign of terror would be over and done with, once and for all.

*

The door opened. A dark-skinned woman stood on the other side, with a polite smile on her face.

“Hello.” she said, with a sharp British accent. “Can I help you?”

Barry glared down at her.

“Bella Batonvert?” he asked.

Her smile sank into a look of confusion, brows furrowing. “Yes. Who’s asking?” she inquired.

“I think you know who I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, yall!  
> I know it's been quite a while, but it's real life, y'know? It's keeping me pretty busy.  
> AAAAAAANYWAY! I'm here with another chapter for you! I know, not much action and stuff in this one, but it's mostly build up for later chapters. Still, I hope this'll hold ya over for a little longer. I'll hopefully be writing a little more from now on, so there might be more chapters in the coming month.  
> As always, please leave comments and all that! I wanna know all your thoughts about this thing and any ideas or suggestions you might have about it. I adore each and every comment, and I love reading them. Thanks for reading <3


	22. Pray For the Day That the Lies Don’t Find You

_ Title from: Pray, by Jeff Williams feat. Lamar Hall, Red Rapper & Sandy Casey _

 

Bella startled when Barry’s phone rang in his pocket.

“Who is that?” she bit at him.

Barry pulled his phone out and groaned internally when he saw Cisco’s name flashing on the screen. This was not a good time.

“Don’t worry about it.” Barry ordered her sharply. “Just do it. Call me when you’re ready.”

The woman’s brows furrowed, lips pursing in disgust at being ordered around, but she gave a curt nod.

“Fine.” she spat like venom.

Barry walked out of her apartment as he answered the call.

“Where d’you need me?” he asked, almost instinctively at this point.

“Don’t worry, Barr, no emergencies for now.” Cisco informed quickly, allowing Barry to let out a soft breath of relief and slow his walk a little. “I just wanted to let you know, I got that recording cleaned up.”

Barry’s heart stuttered, freezing in place halfway down the second set of stairs.

“And?” he asked without a moment of hesitation.

“I already sent it to Captain Singh.” Cisco said. “I sent it as soon as it was done. He said he’ll talk to the DA and stuff, but he thinks it looks good for your dad.”

The speedster exhaled in relief once more. At least one good thing may come from all this. Henry might finally be released from his wrongful imprisonment. But Barry would send him away. He would put Henry on a plane to the other side of the planet and make him stay there until Wells was gone. Barry wasn’t sure he would survive losing Henry too.

“Thank you, Cisco.” Barry said. “Really. I can’t thank you enough.”

Cisco let out a low chuckle. “You don’t have to thank me, Barr. From the sound of that tape, you did all the hard work.” he said.

“So you listened to it?” Barry asked softly.

“Yeah.” Cisco said, sounding as apologetic as could be. “I had to, to clean out what the computers couldn’t. Do you…do you believe all that stuff he said? About travelling through time?”

Barry honestly wasn’t sure. He had thought quite a lot about it since.

From his personal standpoint, it was  _ insane. _ There was no way Wells was from the fucking future. He was just a lunatic, who had latched onto this crazy idea and was trying to use it to justify all of this.

But from a scientific standpoint…Barry knew time travel was theoretically possible; if Wells had achieved such a speed as to accidentally create a wormhole, he could have fallen through it and been sent back in time. Really, there was no concrete proof that it was true, nor was there concrete proof that it wasn’t. It was a basic  _ he said, she said _ situation, with Wells’ word against…well, the whole scientific community. As it looked, all their speculations and hypotheses were worth about as much as the word of a lunatic. They already knew both he and Barry, and so many others, had impossible powers and capabilities. Who was to say that time travel was impossible?

“I…I don’t know.” Barry said. “But does it really matter? He needs to be stopped.”

The engineer sighed. “Yeah, I know.” he said. “It’s just…hard. I mean, he was my mentor for years, man. Caitlin’s too.”

“I know, Cisco.” Barry said. “I guess he was…good to me too. Took care of me when all the hospitals and doctors in the world couldn’t.”

“I just…I don’t think I can believe it’s really him.” Cisco admitted in a soft, low voice. “I only ever knew him as a good guy. I mean, he wanted to make the world a better place.”

Barry had to agree with that a little.

Before everything, he had idolised Wells. He had fucking  _ worshipped _ the guy! To see that image, that idea, shattered like this…Barry’s head was spinning. It had since the moment Wells made himself known again, and it hadn’t stopped. The world seemed out of focus. Barry’s vision was tunnelled down to a horrible mess of confusion, anger, and pain. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. To lay in a warm bed with Mick and Len beside him, with the knowledge that Joe was alive and out there and Iris was happy. Barry would even take it if it meant Henry was still in prison; as long as he was alive and safe, it didn’t matter where he was.

Barry snapped out of his head when he heard Cisco curse under his breath.

“What’s goin’ on?” Barry asked quickly, starting down the stairs again. “Is it Wells?”

“No, it’s a Meta!” Cisco responded.

_ What? _

But they had evacuated most of the Metas. The rest were laying low around the city, trying to avoid Wells’ eye.

“Any idea who it is?” Barry asked, staying at a human speed for now so he could talk to the engineer.

“Mark Mardon, and he’s  _ not _ happy, Barry.” Cisco said. “The cops’re there but they’re sayin’ he wants to talk to you. Weather patterns’re saying he’s rolling up a lightning storm! He’s at Roosevelt Square!”

“Got it!” Barry said. “I’ll be on the comms.”

He hung up and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, then took off with his own lightning storm.

_ Fucking Mardon! _ What the hell kind of  _ idiot _ was he?! Barry saw the Metas as his family. He might not like them all, but they were the same as him. They had all fallen victims to the accelerator explosion. Barry had been afraid Wells would make him fight,  _ and kill, _ Metas in this quest for heroism. That’s  _ why _ he had tried to get them all out of the city, or to at least lay low. Barry didn’t want to be a hero, especially not if it included killing his own people.

But a hero is what he was being forced to become. Wells would punish him ig he let anyone innocent die due to his inaction. So if Mardon wanted a fight, he would get one.

*

Roosevelt Square was a small thing, paved with slabs of concrete and surrounded by tall skyscrapers that reflected the cloudy sky. It had been clear out not half an hour ago, but with Mardon out and about, dark clouds had rolled in over the city, centring and circling over the square.

Mark had to be somewhere close to the centre of the square, but Barry couldn’t say for sure. It was a pretty confident guess, though, considering it was a covered in a very centralized amassing of fog. It was impossible to see through. Police had evacuated the area, civilians grouping outside the perimeter with their phones and cameras up. The police were struggling to keep them back. Barry wasn’t surprised. Not counting him and Wells, it was the first confirmed Meta sighting in a while.

Barry came to a skidding halt beside one of the officers tasked with keeping an eye of the fog.

“What’s goin’ on?” Barry asked, nodding towards the cause of the commotion.

The cop shrugged, with a lost look on his face. “No clue! He just showed up and started screaming at people. Had some heavy hail for a couple minutes, bad enough to send some folks to the hospital.” he informed. “Callers said he was talking about you. Apparently he wants a word with you.”

Barry exhaled a heavy sigh. “Well, he shoulda called.” he muttered to himself, then turned to the officer. “Keep your eyes peeled. Might act out if he hears somethin’ he doesn’t like. I’ll do my best to keep him focused on me.”

He was about to set off into the fog, but stopped when the cop grabbed his arm.

“Be careful.” the officer said. “We all know you’re not a fan of your new job, but you’re doing the good work.”

Barry’s insides clenched for a moment. That cop didn’t even know him, but it was probably the most earnest thing Barry had heard in a while. Barry nodded, not looking away from his target, and the cop released him.

Running through the fog was unnerving. To onlookers it would take him less than a second, but  _ he _ still had to navigate through it. It was like being robbed of his sight. If it wasn’t for the solid stones beneath his feet, he wouldn’t know which way was up. But as if being born again, Barry breached the wall of fog and came into the centre.  _ The eye of the storm. _ It was calm there, white fog circling around where Mardon stood.

“Barry!” he said with a smile, greeting the speedster with open arms.

“Mark.” Barry said, not quite as enthusiastic.

“How you doin’, buddy?” Mark asked, arms falling flat to his sides when it became obvious Barry wasn’t going to respond.

There were some feet between them, and Barry wanted to keep it that way. Mark had all kinds of tricks up his sleeve; getting into a hands-on scuffle with him was a bad idea on the best of days.

“I told you to lay low.” Barry said, ignoring the question, and gestured around them. “This don’t look particularly  _ low _ to me.”

Mark looked around, smile falling into a mean smirk.

“Yeah, maybe not.” he said then shook his head to himself. “Man, I seen you on the news. Heard you turned grass but I didn’t wanna believe it at first.”

Barry shrugged. “Tryin’ out somethin’ new.” he said.

“Really?” Mark questioned. “Is it ‘cause of that cop daddy of yours gettin’ iced?”

Barry’s fingers twitched. He wanted to bash the man’s face in for speaking of Joe.

“Man killed my brother. Far as I’m concerned,  _ he deserved it. _ ” Mark continued. “That, and a lot more.”

Oh, Barry’s gut boiled.

“Really?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Mardon responded with a warm laugh.

Thunder clapped above them. Barry’s fingers twitched again. If Mark started throwing lightning, Barry would have no choice but to fight him. Hopefully, Mark would attack without thinking and hit Barry with a few bolts. If he did, Barry could throw it right back at him and,  _ hopefully_, hit him before he could redirect the bolts. The blast would likely throw him back, if not knock him out right then and there.

But Barry would prefer it if there wasn’t a fight at all. Mark was too unpredictable. 

“Y’know, I really think you should get outta here, Mark.” Barry said, voice stern and warning. “Before I need to do something about you.”

But Mark just laughed at him, sauntering around the circle of the eye. Barry moved along with him. He needed the distance between them to remain as it was.

“Like what?” he asked confidently. “What would you do about me?”

The look on his face was one of disgust.  _ Barry disgusted him. _

“We used to be  _ friends _ , Barry.” he spat. “Sure you could hurt me?”

Barry scoffed at him. “C’mon, Mark. We had a couple drinks, played some poker. That don’t make us  _ friends._” he said. “And yeah, I could hurt you. In fact, I don’t think I’d have a single problem killin’ you. I mean,  _ killin’ your brother _ wasn’t a problem.”

Mark froze, mid-step. A range of emotions flashed over his face in a split-second, but Barry recognized them all. Confusion, realization, disgust, anger, contempt, hate.

“You…that was you?” Mark asked, but there was no need for an answer. “You killed him.  _ You killed Clyde. _ ”

“Yes, I did.” Barry confirmed sharply.

He clenched his hands into tight fists, tapping them against his thighs. From the hardened knuckles of his gloves, a set of claws emerged. Short little things, curved and serrated for maximum dmage. He didn’t use them often, even before his switch of allegiance, but Len’s engineer friend was steadfast in the idea that they would be needed at some point. And if this came to a fight, Barry was glad for the engineer’s stubbornness.

“So get the hell outta my way, and  _ stay away. _ Unless you wanna see your brother again.”

With the seldom used claws now extended, the threat of violence was obvious. Barry hoped he wouldn’t have to use them. He might not particularly like Mark, but the man was a Meta. Their kind had to stick together.

“Wanna ask you a question ‘fore I go.” Mark said, not moving yet.

Barry wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he stopped himself. No use getting his hopes up.  


“Ask away, asshole.” he said instead.

That mean smirk filled Mark’s face again. He looked at Barry with malice in his eyes. Mark held his arms up into the sky. Barry readied himself for that fight. But Mark brought his arms down again, the walls of fog following. The fog sank to the ground dissipated in an instant. The crowd around them stirred as the Metas were revealed to them.

“Do your  _ new little friends _ know about your _bad habit?_ ” he asked, gesturing around to the people. “‘Cause I do, and you know me,  _ I’m always happy to share._”  


_ “Don’t even think about it, Mardon.” _ Barry hissed.

“Oh, what’re you gonna do?” Mark asked, mocking him. “Kill me?”

He laughed to himself. The leather-like fabric of Barry’s gloves creaked as his hands clenched even tighter.

“You’ve gone soft, kid. There’s no turnin’ back from that. But you better watch your back.” he threatened, smirking and mocking still. “‘Cause I’m comin’ for ya.  _ Speedfreak. _

The dam burst in Barry’s head. Mark’s lightning crashed overhead, and Barry’s did the same down on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Speedfreak: slang, one definition is a person who enjoys driving, riding motorcycles, etc. at very high speeds, and the second is a person who is a habitual use of amphetamines, methamphetamines, and/or similar drugs.)
> 
> FUCKING WRITERS BLOCK
> 
> Fucking murder me, ya'll, this is horrible
> 
> But I do have another chapter in the works and I will not let myself write on anything else until I finish that one. (then again, im a fuckin piece of shit so who fuckin knows?)


	23. I'm a Savage, It's Automatic

_ Title from: Cut the Cord, by Shinedown _

 

The world stood still.

White lines of lightning were painted across the dark canvas of the sky. Barry could see them in such an incredible detail.

_ But he didn’t care.  _ He didn’t care about the sky or the lightning. All he cared about at the moment was the man who stood frozen before him. Mark had such a disgusting look on his face; his smirk was mean, eyes like black holes, brows furrowing as if he was readying to roar like a lion.

Barry crossed the distance between them. It felt as if he was running like a normal person, but of course he wasn’t. He was moving faster than anyone around him could comprehend.

His right fist made contact with Mardon’s chest; he could feel a slight hint of resistance as the titanium claws punched through Mardon’s sternum, but it passed instantly. The claws were like hooks, locking into the man’s body. Blood would have spurted like a fountain if the world had been moving.

_ Barry didn’t stop. _

He ripped his claws out, bones crunching. He hit Mardon again, again, again, again, again; punching through clothes, skin, muscle, bone, and tore it up as he snapped his hands back to wind up for yet another strike.

Mardon thought he could come out here and  _ threaten _ Barry? Threaten  _ Barry’s _ friends? Threaten the careful balance Barry was struggling to maintain? Mardon thought he could come out here and  _ flaunt _ his powers? Throw his weight around,  _ as if it meant something? _ Demand Barry’s attention like a petulant child crying for his mommy?

_ Boohoo _ , his brother was dead!  _ Boohoo _ , he had to hide from the world!  _ Boohoo _ , he had to lay around and do nothing for God knows how long!

Mardon thought his life was hard?  _ Try being Barry! _

Joe was dead too! Barry had to carry the fate of the city on his shoulders! Barry had to fight against everything he wanted to serve some psychopaths every whim and wish!

He was  _ so angry! So angry at everything! _ He felt like he was about to  _ explode _ ! His blood  _ boiled _ in his veins, and Barry wanted to rip the world to pieces!

The serration of his claws locked his hands into Mardon’s chest, catching on the few ribs that had not yet been broken. Barry started running and carried Mardon with him. He ran faster than he ever had before, pushing harder and further. He ignored how his body strained to maintain the speed. He ignored the sound of his blood coursing through his body. He ignored everything around him until there was nothing but anger left; the fire exploding inside him, lightning crashing around him and feeding him.

The concrete cracked with a bang as Barry slammed Mardon into the wall, coming to a halt there. The skyscraper seemed to shake with the force of the impact. In an instant, everyone’s focus shifted from the square to where Barry had appeared again.

He lifted his eyes from where the metal was buried in Mark’s chest, to the man’s face. He looked...shocked, the pain hitting him like a freight train. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but all that came was a pour of blood. He stared at Barry. It seemed as though the shock was all that kept him alive. He gurgled as Barry pulled his hands back.

Mardon his the ground like a ton of bricks.

He was dead.

Barry stepped back, calming now that the threat had been... _ handled _ .

He pushed the claws back into their sheaths, then pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and placed one at the corner of his mouth. The lighter clicked a few times before a flame appeared. The smoke flowed into his lungs as he turned and started walking. His gloves were wet with blood. It stained the white paper of the cigarette. The crowds parted to et him through. No one said anything, no one spoke to him.

He wasn’t surprised by the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a peace of fuckin shit yall deal with it


	24. Rhythm of the Rain Keeps Time

_ Title from: Jet Pack Blues, by Fall Out Boy _

 

Barry found himself on the S.T.A.R Labs roof.

Why was he there? Why had his stupid head brought him back there? Of all the places in the world he could go to, his feet had headed straight for the Lab? There were a million places he would rather be.

A shower, was number one on the list.

His gloves were still wet with Mark’s blood. It had seeped through the suit. Most of his body was probably painted red. Barry could feel it on his face; the spatter of blood that had hit him drying into his skin.

The sky opened. Rain fell from the clouds like tears. A dam had burst somewhere in Heaven and the torrential flows poured down onto Earth. Barry spat out his cigarette. The flame had long since gone out, the paper was falling to pieces. He closed his eyes and lifted his head. The clouds spat their raindrops at him.

One after the other, he pulled his gloves off. He threw them aside,  _ who cares where they landed? _ He shrugged out of his jacket. He dragged his t-shirt over his head and threw it over his shoulder. He toed out of his boots, kicking them away. He pulled his pants off.

The rain felt good on his skin. It was cold, the wind rushed past him. He could almost feel the dried blood peel away. Semi-nudity be damned, this felt good. Cleansing, in a way.

In the cold rain and tearing wind, his mind was silent, even if only for a minute.

*

“Is it done yet?” Barry asked bitingly.

“No.” Bella responded, just as sharp. “Chemistry takes time. I can only do so much.”

Barry had to punch the air a few times to keep from putting his fist through a wall. What the hell was taking so long?! She should’ve been done by now! That was her fucking reputation;  _ fastest cook in Central, you name it, it’s done in a day. _

“It’s  _ supposed _ to be done!” he growled at her.

The phone crackled as she exhaled a long breath. “I may be a Meta, but _ I can’t work miracles._ ” she said. “What you’re asking for is an incredibly complex compound, and even  _ with _ my powers, fabricating it will take time.  _ It’s been less than a day.  _ I said I would call you as soon as it was done, and I will. So stop bothering me, and  _ let me work._”

Barry resisted the almost overwhelming urge to throw his phone across the room when she hung up on him. He just wanted this whole mess to be over. He just wanted... _ anything_, really, as long as the world didn’t rest on his shoulders. As long as this enormous weight wasn’t  _ his _ to carry.

But Bella said it wouldn’t take long. As far as Barry knew, she didn’t lie when it came to her merchandise. She had been making drugs for him for months, and for many other Metas since even longer. She always delivered. Barry hated waiting and he hated going on faith, but he had to do both. He had to wait, and he had to have faith; faith in the fact that Bella wouldn’t stake her reputation on this. Much less her life. It went without saying that if she failed, Barry wouldn’t be forgiving.

He was so close.  _ Inches _ away from ending this nightmare. He wasn’t sure it would work. He knew Bella’s work was good, but was it  _ good enough? _ If it wasn’t, Wells would destroy him. He would kill Barry. Or worse, he’d let him live and keep him trapped in this delusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess to clarify:  
> bella, in my mind, has some kinda power over chemistry and shit? like she can manipulate the bonds between atoms to turn them into different materials, if that makes sense????
> 
> Also, if youre, for whatever reason, interested: theres a playlist with all the songs ive taken chapter titles from and you can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/backinblack97/playlist/7LVcXwXS8xlsitqMcVbedC)


	25. When There Are No Words and Everything Hurts

_ Title from: For the Taking, by Elenowen _

 

His feet felt heavy as he moved up the stairs. His whole body felt as though it had been cast in lead and it weighed him down.

This was a bad idea,  _ a dangerous idea_, and he knew it. He just... _he had to see them. _ Bella was working and it was only, what?  _ Two hours _ since...since Mark? Barrys head was spinning faster than ever before. The whole world was a blur. His stomach was in knots, every breath poured into him like acid, and his hands  _ just wouldn’t fucking stop shaking! _

“Who’s there?!” came Mick’s gruff voice through the door some moments after Barry knocked.

“It’s me!” he responded.

Mick tried to open the door, and Barry could hear him cursing when he noted that it was still locked. He could almost laugh at it; the way the doorknob jiggled desperately, Mick swearing to high heaven, the lock clicking and the deadbolt rattling. The most he could manage was a twitchy attempt at a smile, though. It disappeared when the door opened and a gust of warm air from inside the apartment hit him. He shivered. He was still dripping wet from the rain, suit under his arm and feet muddy.

His arsonist didn’t seem to give a shit if Barry was soaked or not. He grabbed the suit and threw it to the floor, then enveloped Barry in the warmest hug Barry could remember ever getting. He wrapped his big arms around Barry and hugged him to his chest. Barry seemed to collapse into the embrace. He let his face be buried in Mick’s shoulder, hands gripping at the mans shirt.

Barry hardly registered what happened. Mick extracted himself. A blanket and a more wiry arm wrapped itself over Barry’s shoulders. Len? It didn’t feel like they were moving; the apartment was moving  _ around _ them, it seemed. Warm water poured over his body. Lens cold hands ran over him, soap scrubbing at his skin. A towel jerked his head around for a handful of moments as it dried his hair. Covers that smelled like lilies were tucked in around him.

“Hey...” a soft voice said.

It was a little difficult to focus, but he managed to zero in on Lens face; he sat kneeled beside the bed and offered a soft smile. Barry grunted into the covers.

“You want something to eat?” he asked.

Barry shook his head.

“Something to drink?” Len asked.

Barry shook his head another time. 

“Just wanna sleep?”  


At that, Barry nodded. He wasn’t hungry, wasn’t thirsty. He was just... _ tired _ .

“I’ll get Mick. We’ll be here in a minute, okay?”

Barry nodded again. Len disappeared. Barry wasn’t sure how long he was gone. He closed his eyes to blink, and when he opened them, Mick and Len stood naked on either side of the bed and were climbing in to join him. They crawled under the covers; Mick was at his back, wrapping around him like a second blanket, and Len cuddled up to his front, letting Barry use his chest as a pillow and his body like a stuffed animal in how he clung to him for dear life. Barry had missed this so much, missed _them _ so much. The ease with which he melted into them, to fit in the spaces between them, softening the sharp edges and smoothing out the roughness.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mick asked.

His voice vibrated through Barry’s body, the heat of his breath almost setting fire to Barry’s skin.

Barry shook his head as best he could against Lens chest.

He just wanted to lie there and rest, surrounded by his Mick and his Len. He wanted to breathe in their scents, listen to the chorus of their heartbeats, feel their bodies against his, and pretend that this bed was the whole world; that nothing but the three of them existed at all. After all, it might be the last time he got to pretend like that.

Soon, he would go head to head with Wells again, of his own volition. He would fight for his life, for Iris, for Mick and Len, for Cisco and Caitlin, for the Metas, for the city,  _ for Joe, for Nora and Henry. _ He would fight for so many things, so many reasons. Barry hoped he was strong enough. He hoped he was fast enough. That he could be as mean and cruel as he had to be, and kill Wells.  _ He had to kill Wells. _ Leaving him alive would be dangerous. No matter where he was locked away or how beaten and broken he was, Wells would find a way. He had survived being frozen by  _ the fucking Cold Gun. _ If Wells was given the chance, he would regain his strength and return with a vengeance. If he was given the opportunity, he would rip away everything and everyone Barry held dear as revenge, as punishment. Barry couldn’t let him live. Death, was the only option. There was no choice, no other way out.

Barry had to kill Wells, if it so killed  _ him _ too.

Cold fingers ran across his face, wiping away the tears. Len didn’t say anything. He only dried Barry’s cheeks in silence, as Mick kissed his head and intertwined their hands under the covers.

“T-Tell me...” Barry tried. “Tell me, tell me you love me. I-I-I know you do, I just...I need to hear it. I just... _need _ to hear it.”

Len met his eyes. He looked at Barry not with his usual sharp gaze, but with something softer. Something warmer and deeper. Barry could get lost in how Len looked at him. He could linger in it for an eternity and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

“I love you, Barry.” he said.

A shaky breath left Barry's body.

He felt Mick pull him a little tighter to himself. Gentle kisses moved from his scalp down his neck. He could hear how Mick was trying to inhale his scent deeper with every breath, embed it into his mind.

“I love you, Barry.” he mirrored, whispering in Barry's ear.

Barry didn’t know why, but he was relieved to hear it. He knew they loved him just as much as he loved them, and he had never doubted it. Yet somehow, hearing them actually say it, lifted at least a  _ portion _ of the weight from his chest.

He loved Mick, and he loved Len. He adored them, he worshiped the ground they walked on, he would do anything for them.

Barry didn’t want to go back in the ring with Wells. He knew it was  _ more than likely _ that he would lose that fight. But he had to do it. Maybe not for Mick and Len, maybe not for the city and everyone in it...but  _ maybe, _ for himself. If Wells was to be believed, he had been controlling Barry's life since Barry was a child. He had killed Nora and Joe,  _ and God knows how many more, _ to keep Barry under his thumb.

Barry might lose the fight, but he had to try.  _ He had to try. _ He would throw himself at Wells with everything he had, and he would kick and scream and claw his way to victory. He might lose the fight, but Barry  _ would _ survive it and as long as he was alive, Barry would not let this war end. He’d take a hundred more battles and lose every one of them, because one day, there would be a battle he  _ didn’t _ lose.

And when that day came...Barry would paint the streets red with Wells’ blood.


	26. My Horror Story is Nearly Over

_ Title from: Devil On My Shoulder, by Billy Talent _

 

“Doc decided to call it Velocity.” Bella said as she handed over the customary brown paper bag.

Barry snorted. “That’s a stupid name.” he said.

“Oh, I know, but Doc likes to feel important.” the woman said with a non-committal shrug.

Barry hummed at that; agreeable reasoning, keep a valued employee happy and they’re more likely to stick around. He opened the bag, peering in to see what Bella had cooked up for him. Three slim autoinjectors, reminiscent of epipens. He could see a red liquid inside, waiting to be shot into his bloodstream.

“Since I doubt the needles are able to penetrate that suit of yours,” Bella continued. ”-I suggest using your wrists or neck. Aim for the veins.”

Barry nodded. “How’s it work?” he asked as he pulled one of the injectors from the bag. “The Velocity, or whatever.”

It was light and slim in his hands, with a cap on one end to protect the needle. Simple enough: pop the cap, put the injector to his neck, press the plunger tab, hold for a few seconds.

“Does it matter?” Bella asked, shrugging again.

She took a seat behind her desk and leaned back in her chair.

“It makes you faster, just like you wanted.” she said. “Who cares how it works?”

Barry tossed the pen back in the bag, and rolled the paper tight around it.

“And you’re sure it  _ does _ work?” the questioned while he hid the bag away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Bella’s eyes hardened. Oh, she didn’t like him doubting her work. Well, he had no reason to doubt her; everything she had given him do far had been good. But on this, Barry couldn’t afford mistakes or drugs that didn’t work.

“My stuff  _ always works._” the woman insisted. “Use one shot.  _ No more. _ It could kill you.”

At that, a small smirk filled her lips. Barry definitely didn’t doubt that she’d like to see him hurt for questioning her.

“Got it.” he said.

He pulled a roll of cash from one of his pockets,  _ hundred dollar bills, non-sequential serial numbers, _ and tossed it to her. Transaction completed. Barry was glad for it. He didn’t like Bella. He liked her work, just not anything about her as a person.

“Barry.” the woman said, as he turned to leave.

He froze.  _ What now? _ He let out a soft breath, but turned back to her.

“Promise me.” she said. “Promise me you’ll only take one dose at a time. It’s not exactly FDA approved. It’s not safe.”

Barry sighed,  _ again. _ So now she suddenly worried about him? Probably not. She was probably mostly worried that if he died while hopped up on something she cooked, business would die down. Again, agreeable reasoning, Barry could respect that.

“I promise.” he said. “You done?”

Bella scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

“Done.” she said.

Barry sped out of her apartment. He really didn’t like her. At least he was done dealing with her in person. If he survived this whole ordeal, he could go back to Doc. Hopefully, the poor guy wasn’t all to frightened of him. Then again, as Barry had come to be intimately familiar with, fear was a strong motivator.

*

Somehow, sliding his handguns into the holsters on his thighs was a strange feeling. He hadn’t been a so-called ‘hero’ for particularly long, and yet, the weight of the weapons made a wave of nausea roll over him. They had felt  _ wrong _ in his hands too; his fingers had stumbled as he assembled them, hesitation in motions that had previously been perfectly smooth and practiced.

Why did it feel so wrong? He was going into a fight with Wells. He needed all the weapons and advantages he could get. He  _ had _ been stewing in ‘good morals’ at the Lab, though. It wasn’t too far fetched to say it might have rubbed off on him.

But good morals would do nothing but hold him back. Wells wouldn’t fight fair.  _ So why should Barry? _ He would have to fight dirty to win.  _ Biting, scratching, pulling hair, hitting below the belt, any dirty tricks he could, anything to get the upper-hand. _ He hid a knife away in his boot, and one in either sleeve of his jacket. He didn’t like how they felt against his skin.

Barry walked into the bathroom, a small off-shoot from the bedroom in the safehouse he was staying in. It took some work, but he managed to pull the lid off the toilet tank even with hands as shaky as his were. His package of  _ medications _ was still there, wrapped in plastic and submerged in the water; Mick and Len hadn’t found it. He just needed something to steel his nerves. Something to calm him down, keep him steady, keep him focused.

He poured all the morphine pills out of their baggie, onto the rim of the bathtub. He crushed them into a fine powder with practiced hands and the bottom of a pill bottle. He sweeped the powder carefully into a small glass bottle. Enough for a few snorts. He wouldn’t do any right now. It would wear off before he even found Wells.

He hated this. He really did. He hated that he needed drugs to make the days bearable. But this would all be over soon. Barry would kills Wells, and it would all end. He would tell everyone. Mick and Len, Caitlin and Cisco, Iris, and anyone who’d listen. He’d shout it from the rooftops.

_ I’m an addict. _

And they’d help. They’d help him get clean. He’d go to rehab or whatever and detox for real and get clean, then fulfill his deal with Singh and go to prison. Barry wasn’t sure he’d actually do it; do good on his word, that is. After all this...he wasn’t sure he could take being away from everyone for however long they’d stick him in the Meta wing at Iron Heights. Wasn’t sure he could take it. Leaving Mick and Len again, so soon after getting them back. Well...he supposed he’d just...cross that bridge when he got to it.  _ If _ he got to it.

As some sort of after thought, Barry didn’t hide his stash again. He poured the pills into the toilet, emptied every single baggie and bottle, left nothing, and flushed. He was kind of... _ relieved, _  to see the brightly colored dots swirl downwards and wash away. Like a promise, to himself. Yeah, it was only one of many stashes, but it was a meaningful gesture, he hoped.

Prison or no prison, it didn’t matter. Either way,  _ he’d get clean. _

He caught himself in the mirror above the sink as he turned around to leave.  _ Jesus_...he looked like a fucking mess. His skin was pale in a strange way, almost ashy. The dark circles under his eyes made him look close to starved, thin and frail and tired and  _ dying _ from the inside out. He hair stood every which way, nervous hands running through it and whipping it into a frenzy.

Fuck it.

He popped the cap on the bottle and held it to one nostril, holding the other closed with a finger. He dunked his head back once, inhaling a quick hit of the powder. It stung the inside of his nose for a moment, making him rub at his nose as if to still an itch, but it passed soon. Such a small hit, weak pills made weak powder, didn’t really do much for him. But...it gave him maybe thirty seconds of a woozy calmness.

The bathroom spun lazily around him, going hazy. All the shit in his head seemed to go... _still. _ It was why he did it, why he loved it, loved the high. All the bad stuff fell away until  _ it was calm. _ The raging storm in his brain settled, the clouds parted to let the sun shine through. He could breathe again. As though having held his breath for all eternity, oxygen seemed able to flow into him again and  _ he felt alive. _ Barry could cry, with how good it felt. His trembling hands stilled. He could breathe. He could think. He could look around and  _ see. _ The pain went away.

But he jerked awake, staggering, grabbing at the sink to support him and keep him on his feet, when his phone buzzed and rang. Barry shoved the bottle into a random pocket of his jacket, pulling out his phone from wherever it was while he did. He cleared his throat quickly and wiped his face. Made sure to check for any powder left under his nose. Glad to see none, though.

“Singh. Wh-What’s goin’ on?” he asked, as he answered. “Why’re you calling?”

“Barry, where are you?” the Captain questioned.

Odd question.

“None of your business.” he answered. “What do you want?”

“You need to get down to the precinct.” Singh ordered. “We didn’t inform you, thought maybe Wells was watching you, but...your father’s here.”

Barry’s chest clenched.

Henry...Henry was there? He was out? He was in the city?

“I thought it was best to get him somewhere at least moderately safe before telling you.” Singh continued. “Like I said, Wells might be watching you.”

All the oxygen in the world was gone. It had disappeared. He couldn’t breathe. Henry was out of prison. Henry was in the city, at the precinct.  _ Henry was innocent, and proven so. _ Barry proved he was innocent. Barry did it. He did it. He actually did it.

He had to get there. Barry had to get there, had to see him, had to touch him and hug him and make sure it was real, make sure it was all real and that he was really out in the real world.

“Two minutes.” Barry said.

Singh had no time to say anything more, before Barry hung up.

_ No time to waste. He had to see Henry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a while, friends...  
> either way, hope you enjoy it. im trying to write more on this fic but its slow, and my IRL shit isnt exactly doing this thing any favors, but  
> anyway, as always, you can find the fic playlist on spotify, right [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/backinblack97/playlist/7LVcXwXS8xlsitqMcVbedC)


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